FRIENDS 


I     LIBRARY 

„         £R8ITYOT 
CALIFORNIA 

SAN  01EGO      \ 


presented  to  the 

MBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  •  SAN  DIFGO 

by 
FRIENDS  OF  THE  LIBRARY 


WITH  MY  FRIENDS 


By    THE   SAME   AUTHOR: 

THE  THEATRES  OF  PARIS. 

FRENCH  DRAMATISTS  OK  THE  IQTH  CENTURY. 

A  FAMILY  TREE,  AND  OTHER  STORIES. 

THE  LAST  MEETING  :   A  Story. 
I 
A  SECRET  OF  THE  SEA,  AND  OTHER  STORIES. 

PKN  AND  INK  :    Papers  on  Subjects  of  More  or 
Less  Importance. 


WITH   MY  FRIENDS 


TALES  TOLD  IN  PARTNERSHIP 


BRANDER    MATTHEWS 


WITH    AN    INTRODUCTORY    ESSAY   ON 

The  Art  and  Mystery  of  Collaboration 


NEW   YORK 

LONGMANS,    GREEN,    &   CO, 

15    EAST    SIXTEENTH    STREET 
1891 


COPYRIGHT,  1891, 
BY  BRANDER    MATTHEWS. 


TO    THE    FRIENDS 

WHO   WROTE   THESE   CTORIES   WITH    ME 
I   INSCRIBE   THEM. 

B.  M. 

New  York,  October,  1891. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

THE  ART  AND  MYSTERY  OF  COLLABORATION,     .        i 
I.  THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE,     .        .        .        .31 

(With  H.    C.   Bunner.) 

II.  SEVEN    CONVERSATIONS    OF    DEAR    JONES    AND 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER 85 

(With  H.    C.   B  tinner.) 

III.  EDGED  TOOLS:    A  TALE  IN  Two  CHAPTERS,       .     119 

(With    Walter  Herries  Pollock.} 

IV.  MATED  BY  MAGIC:  A  STORY  WITH  A  POSTSCRIPT,     161 

(  With    Walter  Herries  Pollock.} 

V.  ONE  STORY  is  GOOD  TILL  ANOTHER  is  TOLD,    .     197 

(  With   George  II.  Jessop.) 

VI.  THREE  WISHES, 233 

(With  F.  Anstcy.) 


THE    ART    AND   MYSTERY    OF 
COLLABORATION. 

IT  may  be  said  that  curiosity  is  the  only  useful 
vice,  since  without  it  there  would  be  neither  dis 
covery  nor  invention  ;  and  curiosity  it  is  which  lends 
interest  to  many  a  book  written  in  collaboration, 
the  reader  being  less  concerned  about  the  merits  of 
the  work  than  he  is  with  guessing  at  the  respective 
shares  of  the  associated  authors.  To  many  of  us  a 
novel  by  two  writers  is  merely  a  puzzle,  and  we 
seek  to  solve  the  enigma  of  its  double  authorship, 
accepting  it  as  a  nut  to  crack  even  when  the  kernel 
is  little  likely  to  be  more  digestible  than  the  shell. 
Before  a  play  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  or  a  novel 
of  MM.  Erckmann-Chatrian  not  a  few  find  them 
selves  asking  a  double  question.  First,  "  what  was 
the  part  of  each  partner  in  the  writing  of  the  book  ?  " 
And,  second,  "  how  is  it  possible  for  two  men  to  be 
concerned  in  the  making  of  one  work  ?  " 

The  answer  to  the  first  question  can  hardly  ever 
be  given ;  even  the  collaborators  themselves  are  at 


2          ART  A.\D  M  YSTEKY  OF  CQLLAKORA  7Y0/V. 

a  loss  to  specify  their  own  contributions.  When 
two  men  have  worked  together  honestly  and  heart 
ily  in  the  inventing,  the  developing,  the  construct 
ing,  the  writing,  and  the  revising  of  a  book  or  a 
play,  it  is  often  impossible  for  either  partner  to  pick 
out  his  own  share;  certain  things  he  may  recognize 
as  his  own,  and  certain  other  things  he  may  credit 
frankly  to  his  ally ;  but  the  rest  was  the  result  of 
the  collaboration  itself,  contributed  by  both  parties 
together  and  not  by  either  separately.  To  explain 
this  more  in  detail  calls  for  an  answer  to  the  second 
question,  and  requires  a  careful  consideration  of  the 
principle  of  collaboration,  and  a  tentative  explana 
tion  of  the  manner  in  which  two  men  may  write  one 
book. 

I  confine  myself  to  a  discussion  of  literary  pa'rt- 
nerships,  because  in  literature  collaboration  is  more 
complete,  more  intimate  than  it  is  in  the  other  arts. 
When  an  architect  aids  a  sculptor,  when  Mr.  Stam 
ford  White,  for  instance,  plans  the  mounting  of  the 
'  Lincoln  '  or  the  '  Farragut '  of  Mr.  Saint  Gaudens, 
the  respective  shares  of  each  artist  may  be  deter 
mined  with  precision.  So  it  is  also  when  we  find 
Rubens  painting  the  figures  in  a  landscape  of  Sny- 
ders.  Nor  are  we  under  any  doubt  as  to  the  con 
tribution  of  each  collaborator  when  we  hear  an 


ART  AND  MYSTERY  OF  COLLABORA  TIOX.          3 

operetta  by  Mr.  Gilbert  and  Sir  Arthur  Sullivan ; 
we  know  that  one  wrote  the  words  and  the  other 
the  music,  and  the  division  of  labor  does  not  seem 
unnatural,  although  it  is  not  necessary;  Wagner,  for 
example,  composed  the  score  to  his  own  book.  But 
no  one  is  puzzled  by  the  White-Saint  Gaudens  com 
bination,  the  Rubens-Snyders,  or  the  Gilbert  and 
Sullivan,  as  most  of  us  are,  for  example,  by  the  alli 
ance  of  Charles  Dickens  and  Wilkie  Collins  in  the 
writing  of  '  No  Thoroughfare.' 

If  the  doubt  is  great  before  a  novellette  com 
posed  by  two  authors  of  individualities  as  distinct 
as  those  of  Dickens  and  of  Collins,  how  much  greater 
may  it  be  before  books  written  by  more  than  two 
partners.  Not  long  ago,  four  clever  American 
story-tellers  co-operated  in  Writing  a  satirical  tale, 
'  The  King's  Men ; '  and  years  before  four  brilliant 
French  writers,  Mme.  de  Girardin,  Gautier,  Sandeau 
and  Mery,  had  set  them  the  example  by  composing 
that  epistolary  romance,  '  La  Croix  de  Berny.' 
There  is  an  English  story  in  six  chapters  by  six 
authors,  among  whom  were  the  younger  Hood,  the 
late  T.  W.  Robertson,  and  Mr.  W.  S.  Gilbert;  and 
there  is  an  American  story  happily  entitled,  '  Six 
of  One,  by  Half-a-dozen  of  the  Other' — Mrs.  Stowe 
being  among  the  half-dozen. 


4         A  A' T  A  ND  M  YS  TER  Y  OF  COLLABORA  TIOX. 

Six  authors  for  a  single  story,  or  even  four,  may 
seem  to  some  a  woeful  waste  of  effort,  and  so,  no 
doubt,  it  is;  but  I  have  found  recorded  cases  of 
more  extravagant  prodigality.  In  France,  an  as 
sociation  of  three  or  four  in  the  authorship  of  a 
farce  is  not  at  all  uncommon ;  and  it  is  there  that 
collaboration  has  been  carried  to  its  most  absurd 
extreme.  M.  Jules  Goizet,  in  his  curious  '  Histoire 
Anecdotique  de  la  Collaboration  au  Theatre  '  (Paris, 
1867),  mentions  a  one-act  play  which  was  performed 
in  Paris  in  1811,  and  which  was  the  work  of  twenty- 
four  dramatists;  and  he  records  the  production  in 
1834,  and  also  in  Paris,  of  another  one-act  play, 
which  was  prepared  for  a  benefit  of  the  Dramatic 
Authors'  Society,  and  which  had  no  fewer  than 
thirty-six  authors.  This  suggests  an  intellectual 
poverty  as  barren  as  that  once  satirized  by  Cham- 
fort  in  Prussia,  when,  after  he  had  said  a  good  thing, 
he  saw  the  others  talking  it  over  at  the  end  of  the 
table;  "See  those  Germans,"  he  cried,  "  clubbing 
together  to  take  a  joke." 

For  the  most  part  these  combination  ventures  are 
mere  curiosities  of  literature.  Nothing  of  real  value 
is  likely  to  be  manufactured  by  a  joint  stock  com 
pany  of  unlimited  authorship.  The  literary  part 
nerships  whose  paper  sells  on  'Change  at  par  have 


.  ART  AND  MYSTERY  OF  COLLABORA  TION.          5 

but  two  members.  It  is  this  association  of  two,  and 
of  two  only,  to  which  \ve  refer  generally  when  we 
speak  of  collaboration.  In  fact,  literary  collabora 
tion  might  be  defined,  fairly  enough,  as  "the  union 
of  two  writers  for  the  production  of  one  book." 
This  is,  of  a  truth,  the  only  collaboration  worthy 
of  serious  criticism,  the  only  one  really  pregnant 
and  vital. 

Like  any  other  partnership,  a  collaboration  is  un 
satisfactory  and  unsuccessful  unless  it  is  founded  on 
mutual  esteem.  The  partners  must  have  sympathy 
for  each  other,  and  respect.  Each  must  be  tolerant 
of  the  other's  opinions.  Each  must  be  ready  to 
yield  a  point  when  need  be.  In  all  associations 
there  must  be  concessions  from  one  to  the  other. 
These  are  the  negative  qualities  of  a  good  collabora 
tor;  and  chief  among  the  positive  necessities  is  the 
willingness  of  each  to  do  his  full  share  of  the  work. 
A  French  wit  has  declared  that  the  happiest  mar 
riages  are  those  in  which  one  is  loved  and  the  other 
lets  himself  (or  herself)  be  loved.  Collaboration  is 
a  sort  of  marriage,  but  the  witticism  does  not  here 
hold  true,  although  Mr.  Andrew  Lang  recently  de 
clared  that  in  most  collaborations  one  man  did  all 
the  work  while  the  other  man  looked  on.  No  doubt 
this  happens  now  and  again,  but  a  partnership  of 


6         A K T  AND  M  YSTER  Y  OF  COLLABORA  T1ON. . 

this  kind  is  not  likely  to  last  long.  Mr.  Lang  has 
also  quoted  from  the  '  Souvenirs  Dramatiques '  of 
the  elder  Dumas  an  opinion  of  that  most  delightful 
of  romancers,  to  the  effect  that  when  two  men  are 
at  work  together  "  one  is  always  the  dupe,  and  he 
is  the  man  of  talent." 

It  is  pleasant  to  be  able  to  controvert  the  testi 
mony  of  the  great  Dumas  by  the  exhibits  in  his  own 
case.  Of  all  the  mighty  mass  of  Dumas's  work, 
what  survives  now,  a  score  of  years  after  his  death, 
and  what  bids  fair  to  survive  at  least  three  score 
and  ten  years  longer,  are  two  or  three  cycles  of 
brilliant  and  exciting  narratives:  '  Monte  Cristo,'  the 
'Three  Musketeers,'  with  its  sequels,  the  stories  of 
which  Chicot  is  the  hero ;  and  of  these  every  one 
was  written  in  collaboration  with  M.  Auguste 
Maquet. 

Scribe  is  perhaps  the  only  contemporary  author 
who  rivalled  Dumas  in  fecundity  and  in  popularity; 
and  Scribe's  evidence  contradicts  Dumas's,  although 
both  were  persistent  collaborators.  Of  all  the  hun 
dred  of  Scribe's  plays,  scarce  half  a  dozen  were 
written  by  him  unaided.  When  he  collected  his 
writings  into  a  uniform  edition,  he  dedicated  this  to 
his  many  collaborators;  and  he  declared  that  while 
the  few  works  he  had  composed  alone  were  hard 


ART  AND  MYSTERY  OF  COLLABORATION.          7 

labor,  those  which  he  had  done  in  partnership  were 
a  pleasure.  And  we  know  from  M.  Legouve,  one 
of  Scribe's  associates,  that  Scribe  generally  pre 
ferred  to  do  all  the  mere  writing  himself.  The  late 
Eugene  Labiche,  almost  as  prolific  a  playwright  as 
Scribe  and  quite  as  popular,  did  nothing  except 
with  a  partner ;  and  he,  so  we  are  told  by  M.  Augier, 
who  once  composed  a  comedy  with  him,  also  liked 
to  do  all  the  actual  writing. 

In  a  genuine  collaboration,  when  the  joint  work 
is  a  true  chemical  union  and  not  a  mere  mechanical 
mixture,  it  matters  little  who  holds  the  pen.  The 
main  advantage  of  a  literary  partnership  is  in  the 
thorough  discussion  of  the  central  idea  and  of  its 
presentation  in  every  possible  aspect.  Art  and 
genius,  so  Voltaire  asserted,  consist  in  finding  all 
that  is  in  one's  subject,  and  in  not  seeking  outside 
of  it.  When  a  situation  has  been  talked  over  thor 
oughly  and  traced  out  to  its  logical  conclusion,  and 
when  a  character  has  been  considered  from  every 
angle  and  developed  to  its  inevitable  end,  nine- 
tenths  of  the  task  is  accomplished.  The  putting 
down  on  paper  of  the  situation  and  the  character  is 
but  the  clothing  of  a  babe  already  alive  and  kicking. 

Perhaps  the  unity  of  impression  which  we  get 
from  some  books  written  in  partnership  is  due  to 


8        ART  AND  M  YSTEK  Y  OF  COLLABORA  TION. 

the  fact  that  the  writing  was  always  the  work  of 
the  same  partner.  Scribe,  for  example,  was  not  an 
author  of  salient  individuality,  but  the  plays  which 
bear  his  name  are  unmistakably  his  handiwork. 
Labiche  also,  like  Scribe,  was  ready  to  collaborate 
with  anybody  and  everybody;  but  his  trade-mark  is 
woven  into  the  texture  of  every  play  that  bears  his 
name.  It  is  understood  that  the  tales  of  MM. 
Erckmann-Chatrian  are  written  out  by  M.  Erckmann 
and  revised  by  M.  Chatrian.  I  have  heard,  on  what 
authority  I  cannot  say,  that  of  the  long  series  of 
stories  bearing  the  names  of  Besant  and  Rice,  all 
that  the  late  James  Rice  actually  wrote  with  his  own 
pen  was  the  first  chapter  or  two  of  their  first  book, 
'  Ready  Money  Mortiboy.'  This  assertion,  whether 
well  founded  or  not,  gains  color  of  truth  from  the 
striking  similarity  of  style,  not  to  call  it  identity,  of 
the  Besant  and  Rice  novels  with  the  novels  of  the 
surviving  member  of  the  partnership.  Yet,  if  one 
may  judge  by  the  preface  he  has  prefixed  to  the 
library  edition  of  '  Ready  Money  Mortiboy,'  Mr. 
Besant  would  be  the  last  one  to  deny  that  Mr.  Rice 
was  a  full  partner  in  the  firm,  bearing  an  equal  share 
in  the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day.  Comparing  the 
novels  of  dual  authorship  with  those  of  the  survivor 
alone,  it  is  perhaps  possible  to  ascribe  to  Mr.  Rice 


ART  AND  MYSTER  Y  OF  COLLABORA  TION.          9 

a  fancy  for  foreign  characters  and  a  faculty  of  ren 
dering  them  vigorously,  a  curious  scent  for  actual 
oddity,  a  bolder  handling  than  Mr.  Besant's,  and  a 
stronger  fondness  for  dramatic  incident,  not  to  say 
melodramatic.  The  joint  novels  have  a  certain  kin 
ship  to  the  virile  tales  of  Charles  Reade ;  but  little 
trace  of  this  family  likeness  is  to  be  found  in  the 
later  works  of  Mr.  Besant  alone,  whose  manner  is 
gentler  and  more  caressing,  with  a  more  delicate 
humor  and  a  subtler  flavor  of  irony. 

But  any  endeavor  to  sift  out  the  contribution  of 
one  collaborator  from  that  of  his  fellow  is  futile — if 
the  union  has  been  a  true  marriage.  It  leads  to  the 
splitting  of  hairs  and  to  the  building  of  more  than 
one  hypothesis  on  the  point  of  a  single  needle — 
surely  as  idle  a  task  as  any  ever  attempted  by  a 
Shakespearian  commentator.  I  doubt,  indeed,  if  this 
effort  "to  go  behind  the  returns" — to  use  an  Amer 
icanism  as  expressive  as  an  Americanism  ought  to 
be — is  even  permissible,  except  possibly  after  the 
partnership  is  dissolved.  Under  the  most  favorable 
circumstances  the  inquiry  is  little  likely  to  be  profit 
able.  Who  shall  declare  whether  the  father  or  the 
mother  is  the  real  parent  of  a  child? 

It  is  interesting,  no  doubt,  and  often  instructive 
to  note  the  influence  of  two  authors  on  each  other; 


io       ART  AND  M YSTER Y  OF  COLLABORA TION. 

to  consider  the  effect  of  the  combination  of  their 
diverse  talents  and  temperaments;  to  discover  how 
the  genius  of  one  conflicts  with  that  of  the  other  or 
complements  it ;  to  observe  how  at  one  point  the 
strength  of  A  reinforces  the  weakness  of  B,  and  how 
at  another  point  the  finer  taste  of  B  adroitly  curbs 
the  more  exuberant  energy  of  A;  and  to  remark 
how  the  conjunction  of  two  men  of  like  minds  and 
of  equally  ardent  convictions  sometimes  will  result 
in  a  work  harsher  and  more  strenuous  than  either 
would  produce  alone. 

For  curious  investigation  of  this  sort  there  is  no 
lack  of  material,  since  collaboration  has  been  at 
tractive  to  not  a  few  of  the  foremost  figures  in  the 
history  of  literature.  The  list  includes  not  only 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher  among  the  mighty  Eliza 
bethans,  but  Shakespeare  and  almost  every  one  of 
his  fellow-dramatists — not  only  Corneille,  Moliere, 
and  Racine,  but  almost  every  other  notable  name 
in  the  history  of  the  French  theatre.  Cervantes 
and  Calderon  and  Lope  de  Vega  took  partners  in 
Spain  ;  and  in  Germany  Schiller  and  Goethe  worked 
together.  In  Great  Britain  Addison  and  Steele 
united  in  the  Spectator,  and  in  the  United  States 
Irving  and  Paulding  combined  in  '  Salmagundi,'  as 
did  Drake  and  Halleck  in  the  'Croakers.' 


ART  AND  MYSTER  Y  OF  COLLABORA  TION.       1 1 

The  list  might  be  extended  almost  indefinitely, 
but  it  is  long  enough  to  allow  of  one  observation — 
an  observation  sufficiently  obvious.  It  is  that  no 
great  poem  has  ever  been  written  by  two  men  to 
gether,  nor  any  really  great  novel.  Collaboration 
has  served  the  cause  of  periodical  literature.  But 
it  has  been  most  frequent  and  most  fertile  among 
dramatists.  We  ask  why  this  is — and  the  answer  is 
ready.  It  is  because  a  play  calls  primarily  for  fore 
thought,  ingenuity,  construction,  and  compression, 
in  the  attaining  of  which  two  heads  are  indubitably 
better  than  one.  And  here  we  are  nigh  to  laying 
hold  on  the  root  of  the  matter.  Here  we  have  ready 
to  hand  what  may  help  towards  a  definition  of  the 
possibilities  and  of  the  limitations  of  literary  part 
nership. 

Collaboration  fails  to  satisfy  when  there  is  need 
of  profound  meditation,  of  solemn  self-interrogation, 
or  of  lofty  imagination  lifting  itself  freely  towards 
the  twin-peaks  of  Parnassus.  Where  there  may  be 
a  joy  in  the  power  of  unexpected  expansion,  and 
where  there  may  be  a  charm  of  veiled  beauty,  vague 
and  fleeting,  visible  at  a  glimpse  only  and  intangible 
always,  two  men  would  be  each  in  the  other's  way. 
In  the  effort  to  fix  these  fugitive  graces  they  would 
but  trip  over  each  other's  heels.  A  task  of  this 


12       ART  AND  M  YSTER  Y  OF  COLLABORA  TION. 

delicacy  belongs  of  right  to  the  lonely  student  in 
the  silent  watches  of  the  night,  or  in  solitary  walks 
under  the  greenwood  tree  and  far  from  the  madding 
crowd. 

Collaboration  succeeds  most  abundantly  where 
clearness  is  needed,  where  precision,  skill,  and  logic 
are  looked  for,  where  we  expect  simplicity  of  mo 
tive,  sharpness  of  outline,  ingenuity  of  construction, 
and  cleverness  of  effect.  Collaboration  may  be  a 
potent  coadjutor  wherever  technic  is  a  pleasure  for 
its  own  sake : — and  the  sense  of  art  is  dull  in  a  time 
or  in  a  place  which  does  not  delight  in  sound  work 
manship,  and  in  the  adroit  devices  of  a  loving  crafts 
man.  Perhaps,  indeed,  collaboration  may  tend — or, 
at  least,  it  may  be  tempted  now  and  again — to  sac 
rifice  matter  to  manner.  Those  enamored  of  technic 
may  consider  rather  the  excellence  of  the  form  than 
the  value  of  the  fact  upon  which  their  art  is  to  be 
exercised.  Yet  it  may  be  doubted  whether  there  is 
any  real  danger  to  literature  in  a  craving  for  the 
utmost  technical  skill. 

In  much  of  Byron's  work  Matthew  Arnold  found 
"  neither  deliberate  scientific  construction,  nor  yet 
the  instinctive  artistic  creation  of  poetic  wholes." 
Accidental  excellence,  an  intuitive  attaining  of  the 
ideal,  the  instinctive  artistic  creation  of  poetic 


ART  A ND  M YS TER  Y  OF  COLLABORA  TION.        1 3 

wholes,  is  not  to  be  expected  from  a  partnership — 
indeed,  is  hardly  possible  to  it.  But  a  partnership 
is  likely  to  attempt  deliberate  scientific  construction 
owing  to  the  mutual  criticism  of  the  joint  authors; 
and  by  collaboration  the  principles  of  scientific  con 
struction  are  conveyed  from  one  to  another  to  the 
advancement  of  the  art  itself  and  to  the  unmistaka 
ble  improvement  of  the  mere  journeyman  work  of 
the  average  man  of  letters.  For  example,  many 
even  of  the  best  English  novels  seem  formless  when 
compared  with  the  masterly  structure  of  any  good 
French  story;  and  perhaps  the  habit  of  collabora 
tion  which  obtains  in  France  is  partly  to  be  praised 
for  this. 

All  things  have  the  defect  of  their  qualities  as 
well  as  the  quality  of  their  defects.  Collaboration 
maybe  considered  as  a  labor-saving  device;  and, 
like  other  labor-saving  devices,  it  sometimes  results 
in  a  loss  of  individuality.  One  is  inclined  to  suspect 
a  lack  of  spontaneity  in  the  works  which  two  authors 
have  written  together,  and  in  which  we  are  likely  to 
find  polish,  finish,  and  perfection  of  mechanism. 
To  call  the  result  of  collaboration  often  over-labored, 
or  to  condemn  it  as  cut  and  dried,  would  be  to  ex 
press  with  unduly  brutal  frankness  the  criticism  it 
is  best  merely  to  suggest.  By  the  very  fact  of  a 


14       ART  A ND  M  YSTER  Y  OF  COLLA BORA  TION. 

partnership  with  its  talking  over,  its  searching  dis 
cussion,  its  untiring  pursuit  of  the  idea  into  the  most 
remote  fastnesses,  there  may  be  an  over-sharpness 
of  outline,  a  deprivation  of  that  vagueness  of  con 
tour  not  seldom  strangely  fascinating. 

No  doubt  in  the  work  of  two  men  there  is  a  loss 
of  the  unexpected,  and  the  story  must  of  necessity 
move  straight  forward  by  the  shortest  road,  not 
lingering  by  the  wayside  in  hope  of  wind-falls.  There 
is  less  chance  of  unforeseen  developments  suggest 
ing  themselves  as  the  pen  speeds  on  its  way  across 
the  paper — and  every  writer  knows  how  the  pen 
often  runs  away  with  him.  "  across  country "  and 
over  many  a  five-barred  gate  which  he  had  never 
intended  to  take:  but  as  there  is  less  chance  of  the 
unforeseen,  so  is  there  also  less  chance  that  the 
unforeseen  will  be  worth  having.  Above  all  is  there 
far  less  likelihood  of  the  writer's  suddenly  finding 
himself  up  a  blind-alley  with  a  sign  of  No  Thor 
oughfare  staring  him  in  the  face.  It  has  been  ob 
jected  that  in  books  prepared  in  partnership  even 
the  writing  is  hard  and  arid,  as  though  each  writer 
were  working  on  a  foreign  suggestion  and  lacking 
the  freedom  with  which  a  man  may  treat  his  own 
invention.  If  a  writer  feels  thus,  the  partnership  is 
unprofitable  and  unnatural,  and  he  had  best  get  a 


ART  AXD  MYSTER  Y  OF  COLLABORA  TION.        15 

divorce  as  soon  as  may  be.  In  a  genuine  collabora 
tion  each  of  the  parties  thereto  ought  to  have  so 
far  contributed  to  the  story  that  he  can  consider 
every  incident  to  be  his,  and  his  the  whole  work 
when  it  is  completed. 

As  it  happens  there  is  one  department  of  litera 
ture  in  which  the  defect  of  collaboration  almost  be 
comes  a  quality.  For  a  drama  deliberate  scientific 
construction  is  absolutely  essential.  In  play-making 
an  author  must  know  the  last  word  before  he  sets 
down  the  first.  From  the  rigid  limitations  of  time 
and  space  there  is  no  room  on  the  stage  for  unex 
pected  development.  Voltaire  tells  us  that  there 
were  misers  before  the  invention  of  money;  and  no 
doubt  there  were  literary  partnerships  before  the 
first  playhouse  was  built.  But  the  value  of  collab 
oration  to  the  playwright  has  been  instinctively  rec 
ognized  whenever  and  wherever  the  theatre  has 
flourished  most  abundantly;  and  as  soon  as  the 
dramas  of  a  country  are  of  domestic  manufacture, 
and  cease  to  be  mainly  imported  from  abroad,  the 
playmakers  take  to  collaboration  intuitively. 

In  Spain,  when  Lope  de  Vega  and  Calderon  and 
Cervantes  were  writing  for  the  stage,  they  had  part 
ners  and  pupils.  In  England  there  was  scarce  one 
of  all  the  marvellous  company  of  the  Elizabethan 


1 6       ART  A ND  M  YS 77;  A'  Y  OF  COLLABORA  T1ON. 

dramatists  who  did  not  join  hands  in  the  making  of 
plays.  Fletcher,  for  example,  wrote  with  Massinger 
even  while  Beaumont  was  alive.  Chapman  had  for 
associates  Marston,  and  Shirley,  and  Ben  Jonson. 
Dekker  worked  in  partnership  with  Ford,  Webster, 
Massinger,  and  Middleton ;  while  Middleton  com 
bined  with  Dekker,  Fletcher,  Rowley,  and  Ben 
Jonson. 

In  France,  a  country  where  the  true  principles  of 
the  play-maker's  art  are  most  thoroughly  under 
stood,  Rotrou  and  Corneille  worked  together  with 
three  others  on  five-act  tragedies  barely  outlined 
by  Cardinal  Richelieu.  Corneille  and  Quinault 
aided  Moliere  in  the  writing  of  '  Psyche.'  Boileau 
and  La  Fontaine  and  other  friends  helped  Racine 
to  complete  the  '  Plaideurs.'  In  the  present  century, 
when  the  supremacy  of  the  French  drama  is  again 
indisputable,  many  of  the  best  plays  are  due  to  col 
laboration.  Scribe  and  M.  Legouv6  wrote  together 
'Adrienne  Lecouvreur '  and  the  '  Bataille  des  Dames.' 
MM.  Meilhac  and  Halevy  were  joint  authors  of 
'  Frou-frou  '  (that  poignant  picture  of  the  disadvan 
tages  of  self-sacrifice)  and  of  the  '  Grand  Duchess  of 
Gerolstein  '  (that  bold  and  brilliant  satire  of  imperial 
misrule).  Emile  Augier,  to  my  mind  the  most 
wholesome  and  the  most  manly  dramatist  of  our 


ART  AND  MYSTER  Y  OF  COLLABORA  TION.        17 

day,  joined  Jules  Sandeau  in  composing  the  '  Gendre 
de  M.  Poirier,'  the  strongest  comedy  of  the  century. 
Scribe  and  Augier  and  Sandeau,  M.  Legouve,  M. 
Meilhac  and  M.  Halevy,  are  all  men  of  fine  talents 
and  of  varied  accomplishments  in  letters;  they  are 
individually  the  authors  of  many  another  drama; 
but  no  one  of  these  other  pieces  attains  the  stature 
of  the  co-operative  plays  or  even  approaches  the 
standard  thus  set.  Nothing  else  of  Scribe's  is  as 
human  and  as  pathetic  as  'Adrienne  Lecouvreur,' 
and  nothing  else  of  M.  Legouve's  is  as  skilful. 
Since  the  dissolution  of  the  partnership  of  MM. 
Meilhac  and  Halevy  they  have  each  written  alone; 
M.  Halevy 's  'Abbe  Constantin'  is  a  charming  idyll, 
and  M.  Meilhac's  '  Decore  '  fs  delicately  humorous; 
but  where  is  the  underlying  strength  which  sustains 
1  Frou-frou  '  ?  where  is  the  exuberant  comic  force  of 
'  Tricoche  et  Cacolet '  ?  where  is  the  disintegrating 
irony  of  the  '  Belle  Helena  '  ?  Here  collaboration  has 
proved  itself.  Here  union  has  produced  work  finer 
and  higher  than  was  apparently  possible  to  either 
author  alone.  More  often  than  not  collaboration 
seems  accidental,  and  its  results  are  not  the  works 
by  which  we  rank  either  of  its  writers.  We  do  not 
think  of  Charles  Dickens  chiefly  as  the  author  of 
'  No  Thoroughfare,'  nor  is  '  No  Thoroughfare  '  the 


1 8       ART  A  ND  M  YS  TER  V  OF  COLL  A  BORA  TION. 

book  by  which  we  judge  Wilkie  Collins.  But  'Adri- 
enne  Lecouvreur '  is  the  finest  play  on  the  list  of 
either  Scribe's  works  or  of  M.  Legouv£'s,  and  '  Frou 
frou  '  is  the  one  comedy  of  MM.  Meilhac  and  Halevy 
likely  to  survive. 

France  is  the  country  with  the  most  vigorous 
dramatic  literature,  and  France  is  the  country  where 
collaboration  is  the  most  frequent.  The  two  facts 
are  to  be  set  down  together,  without  a  forced  sug 
gestion  that  either  is  a  consequence  of  the  other. 
But  it  is  to  be  noted  again  that  in  any  country  where 
there  is  a  revival  of  the  drama  collaboration  is  likely 
to  become  common  at  once.  In  Germany  just  now, 
for  example,  there  is  a  promising  school  of  comedy 
writers — and  they  are  combining  one  with  another. 
In  Great  Britain  and  in  the  United  States  there  are 
signs  of  dramatic  growth ;  and  very  obviously  there 
has  been  an  enormous  improvement  in  the  past  few 
years.  A  comparison  of  the  original  plays  written 
in  our  language  twenty-five  years  ago  with  those 
now  so  written  is  most  encouraging.  It  may  seem 
a  little  like  that  circular  argument — which  is  as 
dangerous  as  a  circular  saw — but  I  venture  to  suggest 
that  one  of  the  causes  of  immediate  hopefulness  for 
the  drama  in  our  language  is  the  prevalence  of  col 
laboration  in  England  and  in  America — for  by  such 


ART  AND  M  YSTER  Y  OF  COLLATOR  A  TION.        19 

partnerships  the  principles  of  play-making  are  spread 
abroad.  "  We  learn  of  our  contemporaries,"  said 
Emerson,  "  what  they  know,  without  effort,  and 
almost  through  the  pores  of  the  skin."  Now,  a  col 
laborator  must  needs  be  the  closest  of  contempo 
raries. 

With  Charles  Reade,  Tom  Taylor  composed 
'  Masks  and  Faces,'  an  artificial  comedy  of  undenia 
ble  effect;  and  with  Mr.  A.  W.  Dubourg  he  wrote 
'  New  Men  and  Old  Acres,'  a  comedy  also  artificial, 
but  more  closely  akin  to  modern  life.  With  Pal- 
grave  Simpson,  Mr.  Herman  Merivale  prepared  a 
moving  romantic  drama,  'All  for  Her,'  and  with  Mr. 
F.  C.  Grove  he  wrote  a  brilliant  comedy,  '  Forget- 
Me-Not.'  To  collaboration  again  is  due  the  '  Silver 
King,'  the  best  of  recent  English  dramas.  And 
collaboration,  alas !  is  also  to  be  credited  with  the 
most  of  the  latest  machine-made  British  melodramas, 
plays  which  may  bear  the  signatures  of  any  two  of 
half  a  dozen  contemporary  playwrights — which  re 
veal  a  most  extraordinary  likeness,  one  to  the  other, 
as  though  they  had  each  been  cut  from  the  same 
roll  of  goods  in  lengths  to  suit  the  purchaser — and 
in  which  the  pattern  is  always  a  variation  of  a  single 
theme,  the  revengeful  pursuit  of  an  exemplary  good 
man  by  an  indefatigable  bad  man. 


2o       ART  A  ND  M  YS  TER  Y  0  F  COLL  A  />'  OKA  TION. 

In  America  there  is  also  an  evident  tendency 
towards  co-operation,  as  there  has  been  a  distinct 
improvement  in  the  technic  of  play-writing.  Mr. 
Bronson  Howard  has  told  us  that  he  had  a  silent 
partner  in  revising  his  '  Banker's  Daughter,'  known 
in  England  as  the  '  Old  Love  and  the  New.'  To 
the  novice  in  the  theatre  the  aid  of  the  expert  is  in 
valuable.  When  Mrs.  Hodgson  Burnett  desired  to 
make  a  play  out  of  her  little  tale  of  '  Esmeralda,' 
she  consulted  counsel  learned  in  the  law  of  dramatic 
construction,  Mr.  William  Gillette,  by  whose  aid 
the  comedy  was  written.  If  the  poetic  drama 
has  any  future  on  our  stage,  it  must  owe  this 
in  a  measure  to  collaboration,  for  the  technic  of 
the  theatre  is  nowadays  very  elaborate,  and  few 
bards  are  likely  to  master  it  satisfactorily.  But  if 
the  poet  will  frankly  join  hands  with  the  practical 
playwright,  there  is  a  hopeful  possibility  of  success. 
Had  Browning  taken  advice  before  he  finally  fixed 
on  his  action,  and  while  the  form  was  yet  fluid,  'A 
Blot  in  the  Scutcheon'  might  have  been  made  a 
great  acting  play.  It  is  while  a  drama  is  still  mal 
leable  that  the  aid  of  the  expert  is  invaluable. 

The  assistance  which  Dumas  received  from  his 
frequent  associates  was  not  of  this  kind ;  it  was  not 
the  co-operation  of  an  expert  partner  but  rather 


A R T  AND  M  YSTER  Y  OF  COLLABORA  7'fOJV.       2 1 

that  of  a  useful  apprentice.  The  chief  of  these  col 
laborators  was  the  late  Auguste  Maquet,  with  whom 
Dumas  would  block  out  the  plot,  and  to  whom  he 
would  intrust  all  the  toilsome  detail  of  investiga 
tion  and  verification.  Edmond  About  once  caught 
Dumas  red-handed  in  the  very  act  of  collaboration, 
and  from  his  account  it  appears  that  Maquet  had 
set  down  in  black  and  white  the  outline  of  the  story 
as  they  had  developed  it  together,  incorporating, 
doubtless,  his  own  suggestions  and  the  result  of  his 
historic  research.  This  outline  was  contained  on 
little  squares  of  paper,  and  each  of  these  little 
squares  Dumas  was  amplifying  into  a  large  sheet  of 
manuscript  in  his  own  fine  handwriting. 

Thackeray  answered  the  accusation  that  Dumas 
did  not  write  all  his  own  works  by  asking,  "  Does 
not  the  chief  cook  have  aides  under  him?  Did  not 
Rubens's  pupils  paint  on  his  canvases  ?  "  Then — 
it  is  in  one  of  the  most  delightful  passages  of  the 
always  delightful '  Roundabout  Papers' — he  declares 
that  he  himself  would  like  a  competent,  respectable, 
and  rapid  clerk,  to  whom  he  might  say,  "  Mr.  Jones, 
if  you  please,  the  archbishop  must  die  this  morning 
in  about  five  pages.  Turn  to  article  '  Dropsy '  (or 
what  you  will)  in  Encyclopaedia.  Take  care  there 
are  no  medical  blunders  in  his  death.  Group  his 


22       ART  AND  MYSTER  V  OF  CO1.I.ABORA  77O.V. 

daughters,  physicians,  and  chaplains  round  him.  In 
Wales's  '  London,'  letter  B,  third  shelf,  you  will  find 
an  account  of  Lambeth,  and  some  prints  of  the 
place.  Color  in  with  local  coloring.  The  daughter 
will  come  down  and  speak  to  her  lover  in  his  wherry 
at  Lambeth  Stairs."  "Jones  (an  intelligent  young 
man)  examines  the  medical,  historical,  topographi 
cal  books  necessary;  his  chief  points  out  to  him  in 
Jeremy  Taylor  (fol.  London,  MDCLV.)  a  few  re 
marks,  such  as  might  befit  a  dear  old  archbishop  de 
parting  this  life.  When  I  come  back  to  dress  for 
dinner  the  archbishop  is  dead  on  my  table  in  five 
pages;  medicine,  topography,  theology,  all  right, 
and  Jones  has  gone  home  to  his  family  some  hours." 
This  was  Thackeray's  whimsical  suggestion ;  but  if 
he  had  ventured  to  adopt  it  himself,  I  fear  we  should 
have  been  able  to  distinguish  the  'prentice  hand 
from  the  fine  round  sweep  of  the  master. 

This  paper  is,  perhaps,  rather  a  consideration  of 
the  principle  of  collaboration  than  an  explanation 
of  its  methods.  To  point  out  the  departments  of  lit 
erature  in  which  collaboration  maybe  of  advantage 
and  to  indicate  its  more  apparent  limitations  have 
been  my  objects,  and  I  have  postponed  as  long  as  I 
could  any  attempt  to 'explain  "  how  it  is  done."  Such 
an  explanation  is  at  best  but  a  doubtful  possibility. 


AR  T  AND  M  YSTER  Y  OF  'COLLABORA  TION.        23 

Perhaps  the  first  requisite  is  a  sympathy  between 
the  two  partners  not  sufficient  to  make  them  survey 
life  from  the  same  point  of  view,  but  yet  enough  to 
make  them  respect  each  other's  suggestions  and  be 
prepared  to  accept  them.  There  is  needed  in  both 
openness  of  mind  as  well  as  alertness,  an  ability  to 
take  as  well  as  to  give,  a  willingness  to  put  your 
self  in  his  place  and  to  look  at  the  world  from  his 
standpoint.  Probably  it  is  best  that  the  two  authors 
shall  not  be  too  much  alike  in  temperament.  Ed- 
mond  and  Jules  de  Goncourt,  for  example,  although 
not  twins,  thought  alike  on  most  subjects;  and  so 
close  was  their  identity  of  cerebration  that,  when 
they  were  sitting  at  the  same  table  at  work  on  the 
same  book,  they  sometimes  wrote  almost  the  same 
sentence  at  the  same  moment.  This  is  collabora 
tion  carried  to  an  abnormal  and  unwholesome  ex 
treme;  and  there  is  much  that  is  morbid  and  much 
that  is  forced  in  the  books  the  Goncourts  composed 
together. 

Collaboration  may  once  more  be  likened  to  matri 
mony,  and  we  may  consider  MM.  'Erckmann-Cha- 
trian  and  Messrs.  Besant  and  Rice  as  monogamists, 
while  Scribe  and  Labiche,  who  were  ready  to  col 
laborate  at  large,  are  polygamists.  In  marriage 
husband  and  wife  are  one,  and  that  is  not  a  happy 


24       ART  AXD  MYSTERY  OF  COLLAROKA  TIOX. 

union  when  either  inquires  as  to  which  one  it  is : 
the  unity  should  be  so  complete  that  the  will  of 
each  is  merged  in  that  of  the  other.  So  it  should 
be  in  a  literary  partnership.  Respect  for  each  other, 
mutual  esteem,  is,  perhaps,  the  first  requisite  for 
collaboration  as  for  matrimony;  and  good  temper 
is  assuredly  the  second. 

In  discussing  the  practice  of  collaboration  with 
that  past  master  of  the  art  Mr.  Walter  Besant,  he 
declared  to  me  that  it  was  absolutely  essential  that 
one  of  the  two  partners  should  be  the  head  of  the 
firm.  He  did  not  tell  me  who  was  the  head  of  the 
firm  of  Besant  and  Rice,  and  I  have  no  direct  testi 
mony  to  offer  in  support  of  my  belief  that  the  domi 
nant  member  was  Mr.  Besant  himself;  but  there  is 
a  plenty  of  circumstantial  evidence  to  that  effect, 
and,  as  Thoreau  says,  "  some  circumstantial  evidence 
is  very  strong — as  when  you  find  a  trout  in  the 
milk." 

What  Mr.  Besant  meant,  I  take  it,  was  that  there 
must  be  a  unity  of  impulse  so  that  the  resulting 
product  shall  seem  the  outcome  of  a  single  control 
ling  mind.  This  may  be  attained  by  the  domina 
tion  of  one  partner,  no  doubt,  as  when  Dumas 
availed  himself  of  the  aid  of  Maquet ;  but  it  can  be 
the  result  also  of  an  harmonious  equality,  as  when 


ART  AND  M  YSTER  Y  OF  COLLABORA  TION.       25 

M.  Meilhac  and  M.  Halevy  were  writing  together. 
In  collaboration  as  in  matrimony,  again,  it  is  well 
when  the  influence  of  the  masculine  element  does 
not  wholly  overpower  the  feminine. 

As  there  are  households  where  husband  and  wife 
fight  like  cat  and  dog,  and  where  marriage  ends  in 
divorce,  so  there  are  literary  partnerships  which  are 
dissolved  in  acrimony  and  anger.  M.  Alexandre 
Dumas  fils  has  lent  his  strength  to  the  authors  of 
the  '  Supplice  d'une  Femme,'  '  Heloise  Paranquet,' 
and  the  '  Danichef,'  and  there  followed  bad  feelings 
and  high  words.  Warned  by  this  bitter  experience, 
M.  Dumas  is  said  to  have  answered  a  request  to 
collaborate  with  the  query,  "  Why  should  I  wish  to 
quarrel  with  you?"  But  M.  Dumas  is  a  bad  collab 
orator,  I  fancy,  despite  his  skill  and  his  strength. 
He  is  like  the  powerful  ally  a  weak  country  some 
times  calls  in  to  its  own  undoing.  Yet  in  his  case 
the  usual  cause  of  disagreement  between  collabora 
tors  is  lacking,  for  the  plays  he  has  recast  and 
stamped  with  his  own  image  and  superscription 
have  succeeded.  Now  in  general  it  is  when  the 
work  fails  that  the  collaborators  fall  out.  Racine 
made  an  epigram  against  the  two  now  forgotten 
authors  of  a  now  forgotten  tragedy,  that  each 
claimed  it  before  it  was  produced  and  both  re- 


26       ./A'  71  <-/ Ar/;  J/  YSJ'Eh'  Y  Ol<   COU.A  HOKA  TIO\. 

nounced  it  after  it  had  been  acted.  The  quarrels  of 
collaborators,  like  the  quarrels  of  any  author,  or, 
for  that  matter,  like  any  quarrels  at  all  to  which 
the  public  are  admitted,  are  the  height  of  folly. 
The  world  looks  on  at  the  fight,  and  listens  while 
the  two  former  friends  call  each  other  hard  names; 
and  more  often  than  not  it  believes  what  each  says 
of  the  other,  and  not  what  he  says  of  himself. 

If  I  may  be  allowed  to  offer  myself  as  a  witness, 
I  shall  testify  to  the  advantage  of  a  literary  partner 
ship,  which  halves  the  labor  of  the  task  and  doubles 
the  pleasure.  It  may  be  that  I  have  been  excep 
tionally  skilful  in  choosing  my  allies  or  exception 
ally  fortunate  in  them,  but  I  can  declare  unhesitat 
ingly  that  I  have  never  had  a  hard  word  with  a  col 
laborator  while  our  work  was  in  hand  and  never  a 
bitter  word  with  him  afterwards.  My  collaborators 
have  always  been  my  friends  before  and  they  have 
always  remained  my  friends  after.  Sometimes  our 
literary  partnership  was  the  unpremeditated  outcome 
of  a  friendly  chat,  in  the  course  of  which  we  chanced 
upon  a  subject,  and  in  sport  developed  it  until  un 
expectedly  it  seemed  promising  enough  to  be  worthy 
of  artistic  consideration.  Such  a  subject  belonged 
to  both  of  us,  and  had  best  be  treated  by  both  to 
gether.  There  was  no  dispute  as  to  our  respective 


ART  AND  MYSTER  Y  OF  COLLABORA  TION.       27 

shares  in  the  result  of  our  joint  labors,  because  we 
could  not  ourselves  even  guess  what  each  had  done 
when  both  had  been  at  work  together.  As  Augier 
said  in  the  preface  to  the  '  Lionnes  Pauvres,'  which 
he  wrote  with  M.  Edouard  Foussier,  we  must  copy 
"  the  married  people  who  say  one  to  the  other,  '  your 
son.'  " 

I  have  collaborated  in  writing  stories,  in  making 
plays,  and  in  editing  books.  Sometimes  I  may  have 
thought  that  I  did  more  than  my  share,  sometimes 
I  knew  that  I  did  less  than  I  should,  but  always 
there  was  harmony,  and  never  did  either  of  us  seek 
to  assert  a  mastery.  However  done,  and  by  which 
ever  of  the  two,  the  subject  was  always  thoroughly 
discussed  between  us;  it  was  turned  over  and  over 
and  upside  down  and  inside  out ;  it  was  considered 
from  all  possible  points  of  view  and  in  every  stage 
of  development.  When  a  final  choice  was  made  of 
what  seemed  to  us  best,  the  mere  putting  on  paper 
was  wholly  secondary.  I  have  written  a  play  of 
which  I  prepared  the  dialogue  of  one  act  and  my 
associate  prepared  that  of  the  next ;  I  have  written 
a  play  in  which  I  wrote  the  scenes  in  which  certain 
characters  appeared  and  my  ally  wrote  those  in 
which  certain  other  characters  appeared ;  I  have 
written  a  short  story  in  two  chapters  of  which  one 


28       ART  A  ND  M  YS  TEK  Y  Of  COLL  A  BORA  TION. 

was  in  my  autograph  and  the  other  in  my  partner's; 
but  none  the  less  was  he  the  half-author  of  the  por 
tions  I  set  on  paper,  and  none  the  less  was  I  the 
half-author  of  the  portions  he  set  on  paper. 

Probably  the  most  profitable  method  is  that  of 
alternate  development — certainly  it  is  for  a  drama. 
After  the  subject  begins  to  take  form,  A  makes  out 
a  tentative  sequence  of  scenes;  and  this,  after  sev 
eral  talks,  B  fills  up  into  an  outline  of  the  story. 
Slowly,  and  after  careful  consultation,  A  elaborates 
this  into  a  detailed  scenario  in  which  every  charac 
ter  is  set  forth,  every  entrance  and  every  exit,  with 
the  reasons  for  them,  every  scene  and  every  effect 
—in  fact,  everything  except  the  words  to  be  spoken. 
Then  B  takes  this  scenario^  and  from  it  he  writes  a 
first  rough  draft  of  the  play  itself,  complete  in  dia 
logue  and  in  "  business."  This  rough  draft  A  re 
vises,  and  rewrites  where  need  be.  Then  it  goes 
to  the  copyist ;  and  when  the  clean  type-written 
manuscript  returns  both  A  and  B  go  over  it  again 
and  again,  pointing  and  polishing,  until  each  is  sat 
isfied  with  their  labor  in  common.  Perhaps  the 
drama  is  the  only  form  of  literature  in  which  so 
painstaking  a  process  would  be  advantageous,  or  in 
which  it  would  be  advisable  even ;  but  of  a  play 
the  structure  can  hardly  be  too  careful  or  too  pre- 


AR T  AND  M  YSTER  Y  OF  COLLA  BORA  TION.       29 

cise,  nor  can  the  dialogue  be  too  compact  or  too 
•polished. 

"  I  am  no  pickpurse  of  another's  wit,"  as  Sir  Philip 
Sydney  boasts,  but  I  cannot  forego  the  malign 
pleasure  of  quoting,  in  conclusion,  Mr.  Andrew 
Lang's  insidious  suggestion  to  "  young  men  entering 
on  the  life  of  tetters."  He  advises  them  "  to  find 
an  ingenious,  and  industrious,  and  successful  part 
ner;  stick  to  him,  never  quarrel  with  him,  and  do 
not  survive  him." 


THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE. 

(In  Collaboration  with  H.  C.  Runner^ 


THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE. 
I. 

Document  No.  i. 

Paragraph  front  the  "  Illustrated  London  News" pub 
lished  under  the  head  of  "  Obituary  of  Eminent 
Persons^  in  the  issue  of  January  ^tk,  1879. 

SIR   WILLIAM   BEAUVOIR,  BART. 

Sir  William  Beauvoir,  Bart.,  whose  lamented  death 
has  just  occurred  at  Brighton,  on  December  28th, 
was  the  head  and  representative  of  the  junior  branch 
of  the  very  ancient  and  honourable  family  of  Beau 
voir,  and  was  the  only  son  of  the  late  General  Sir 
William  Beauvoir,  Bart.,  by  his  wife  Anne,  daughter 
of  Colonel  Doyle,  of  Chelsworth,  Suffolk.  He  was 
born  in  1805,  and  was  educated  at  Eton  and  Trin 
ity  Hall,  Cambridge.  He  was  M.P.  for  Lancashire 
from  1837  to  1847,  and  was  appointed  a  Gentleman 
of  the  Privy  Chamber  in  1843.  Sir  William  mar 
ried,  in  1826,  Henrietta  Georgiana,  fourth  daugh 
ter  of  the  Right  Hon.  Adolphus  Liddell,  Q.C., 
3 


34  THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASK. 

by  whom  he  had  two  sons,  William  Beauvoir  and 
Oliver  Liddell  Beauvoir.  The  latter  was  with  his 
lamented  parent  when  he  died.  Of  the  former  noth 
ing  has  been  heard  for  nearly  thirty  years,  about 
which  time  he  left  England  suddenly  for  America. 
It  is  supposed  that  he  went  to  California  shortly 
after  the  discovery  of  gold.  Much  forgotten  gossip 
will  now  in  all  probability  be  revived,  for  the  will  of 
the  lamented  baronet  has  been  proved,  on  the  2d 
inst.,  and  the  personalty  sworn  under  ;£ 70,000.  The 
two  sons  are  appointed  executors.  The  estate  in 
Lancashire  is  left  to  the  elder,  and  the  rest  is  divided 
between  the  brothers  The  doubt  as  to  the  career 
of  Sir  William's  eldest  son  must  now  of  course  be 
cleared  up. 

This  family  of  Beauvoirs  is  of  Norman  descent 
and  of  great  antiquity.  This  is  the  younger  branch, 
founded  in  the  last  century  by  Sir  William  Beauvoir, 
Bart.,  who  was  Chief  Justice  of  the  Canadas,  whence 
he  was  granted  the  punning  arms  and  motto  now 
borne  by  his  descendants-^-a  beaver  sable  rampant 
on  a  field  gules;  motto,  "  Damno." 


THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE.  35 

* 

II. 
Document  No.  2. 

Promises  to  pay  put  fortJi  by  William  Bcauvoir,  jun 
ior,  at  various  times  in  1848. 


/.   O.  U. 

v£io5.  o.  o, 
April  loth,  1848. 

William  Bcauvoir,  junr. 


Document  No.  3. 

The  same. 


I.  O.  U. 

£250.  o.  o. 
April  22d,  1848. 

William  Reanvoir,  junr. 


Document  No.  4. 

The  same. 


I.  O.  U. 

£600.  o.  o. 
May   10th,  1848. 

William  Beauvoir,junr. 


36  THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE. 

Document  No.  5. 

Extract  from   the  "  Sunday  Satirist,"  a  journal  of 
high  life  published  in  London,  May  i^th,  1848. 

Are  not  our  hereditary  law-makers  and  the  mem 
bers  of  our  old  families  the  guardians  of  the  honour 
of  this  realm?  One  would  not  think  so  to  see  the 
reckless  gait  at  which  some  of  them  go  down  the 

road    to   ruin.       The  D e   of  D m    and  the 

E 1  of  B n  and  L d  Y g, — are  not  these 

pretty  guardians  of  a  nation's  name?  Quis  custodiet  ? 
etc.  Guardians,  forsooth,  parce  quits  se  sont  donntfs 
la  peine  de  naitre  !  Some  of  the  gentry  make  the 
running  as  well  as  their  betters.  Young  VV—  — m 

B r,  son  of  old  Sir  W m  B r,  late  M.P. 

for  L e,  is  a  truly  model  young  man.     He  comes 

of  a  good   old   county  family — his  mother  was   a 

daughter  of  the  Right  Honourable  A s  L 1, 

and  he  himself  is  old  enough  to  know  better.  But 
we  hear  of  his  escapades  night  after  night  and  day 
after  day.  He  bets  all  day  and  he  plays  all  night, 
and  poor  tired  nature  has  to  make  the  best  of  it. 
And  his  poor  worn  purse  gets  the  worst  of  it.  He 
has  duns  by  the  score.  His  I.  O.  U.'s  are  held  by 
every  Jew  in  the  city.  He  is  not  content  with  a 
little  gentlemanlike  game  of  whist  or  <?cart<?>  but  he 


THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE.  37 

must  needs  revive  for  his  special  use  and.  behoof 
the  dangerous  and  well-nigh  forgotten  pharaoh.  As 
luck  would  have  it,  he  had  lost  as  much  at  this  game 
of  brute  chance  as  ever  he  would  at  any  game  of 
skill.  His  judgment  of  horseflesh  is  no  better  than 
his  luck  at  cards.  He  came  a  cropper  over  the 
"Two  Thousand  Guineas."  The  victory  of  the 
favourite  cost  him  to  the  tune  of  over  six  thousand 
pounds.  We  learn  that  he  hopes  to  recoup  himself 
on  the  Derby  by  backing  Shylock  for  nearly  nine 
thousand  pounds;  one  bet  was  twelve  hundred 
guineas. 

And  this  is  the  sort  of  man  who  may  be  chosen 
at  any  time  by  force  of  family  interest  to  make  laws 
for  the  toiling  millions  of  Great  Britain! 

Document  No.  6. 

Extract  from  "Bell's  Life"  of  May  iqth,  1848. 
THE   DERBY   DAY. 

WEDNESDAY. — This  day,  like  its  predecessor, 
opened  with  a  cloudless  sky,  and  the  throng  which 
crowded  the  avenues  leading  to  the  grand  scene  of 
attraction  was,  as  we  have  elsewhere  remarked,  in 
calculable. 


38  THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE. 

THE   DERBY. 

The  Derby  Stakes  of  50  sovs.  each,  h.  ft.  for  three- 
year-olds;  colts,  8  st.  7  lb.,  fillies,  8  st.  2  lb.;  the 
second  to  receive  100  sovs.,  and  the  winner  to  pay 
100  sovs.  towards  police,  etc. ;  mile  and  a  half  on 
the  new  Derby  course  5215  subs. 

Lord  Clifden's  b.  c.  Surplice,  by  Touchstone,      .  i 

Mr.  Bowe's  b.  c.  Springy  Jack,  by  Hetman,     .     .  2 

Mr.  B.  Green's  br.  c.  Shylock,  by  Simoon, ...  3 

Mr.  Payne's  b.  c.  Glendower,  by  Slane, .     .     .     .  o 

Mr.  J.  P.  Day's  b.  c.  Nil  Desperandum,  by  Venison,  o 

Document  No.  7. 

Paragraph  of  SJiipping  Intelligence  from  the  Liver 
pool  "  Courier  "  of  June  2\st,  1848. 
The  bark  Euterpe,  Captain  Riding,  belonging  to 
the  Transatlantic  Clipper  Line  of  Messrs.  Judkins 
&  Cooke,  left  the  Mersey  yesterday  afternoon,  bound 
for  New  York.  She  took  out  the  usual  comple 
ment  of  steerage  passengers.  The  first  officer's  cabin 
is  occupied  by  Professor  Titus  Peebles,  M.R.C.S., 
M.R.G.S.,  lately  instructor  in  metallurgy  at  the  Uni 
versity  of  Edinburgh,  and  Mr.  William  Beauvoir. 
Professor  Peebles,  we  are  informed,  has  an  impor 
tant  scientific  mission  in  the  States  and  will  not  re 
turn  for  six  months. 


THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE.  39 

Document  No.  8. 

Paragraph  from  the  New  York"  Herald"  of  September 
gth,  1848. 

While  we  well  know  that  the  record  of  vice  and 
dissipation  can  never  be  pleasing  to  the  refined 
tastes  of  the  cultivated  denizens  of  the  only  morally 
pure  metropolis  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  yet  it  may 
be  of  interest  to  those  who  enjoy  the  fascinating 
study  of  human  folly  and  frailty  to  "  point  a  moral 
or  adorn  a  tale  "  from  the  events  transpiring  in  our 
very  midst.  Such  as  these  will  view  with  alarm  the 
sad  example  afforded  the  youth  of  our  city  by  the 
dissolute  career  of  a  young  lump  of  aristocratic  af 
fectation  and  patrician  profligacy,  recently  arrived 
in  this  city.  This  young  gentleman  s  (save  the 
mark!)  name  is  Lord  William  F.  Beauvoir,  the  latest 
scion  of  a  venerable  and  wealthy  English  family. 
We  print  the  full  name  of  this  beautiful  exemplar 
of  "  haughty  Albion,"  although  he  first  appeared 
among  our  citizens  under  the  alias  of  Beaver,  by 
which  name  he  is  now  generally  known,  although 
recorded  on  the  books  of  the  Astor  House  by  the 
name  which  our  enterprise  first  gives  to  the  public. 
Lord  Beauvoir's  career  since  his  arrival  here  has 
been  one  of  unexampled  extravagance  and  mad  im- 


40  THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE. 

morality.  His  days  and  nights  have  been  passed  in 
the  gilded  palaces  of  the  fickle  goddess  Fortune  in 
Thomas  Street,  and  College  Place,  where  he  has 
squandered  fabulous  sums,  by  some  stated  to  amount 
to  over  £78,000  sterling.  It  is  satisfactory  to  know 
that  retribution  has  at  last  overtaken  him.  His 
enormous  income  has  been  exhausted  to  the  ulti 
mate  farthing,  and  at  latest  accounts  ke  had  quit 
the  city,  leaving  behind  him,  it  is  shrewdly  sus 
pected,  a  large  hotel  bill,  though  no  such  admission 
can  be  extorted  from  his  last  landlord,  who  is  evi 
dently  a  sycophantic  adulator  of  British  "  aristoc 
racy." 

Document  No.  9. 

Certificate  of  Deposit,  vulgarly  knoivn  as  a  pawn- 
ticket,  issued  by  one  Simpson  to  J  Villiam  Beauvoir, 
December  2d,  1848. 

John  Simpson, 

Loan  Office, 

:{(}  Bowery, 

New  York. 


Dec.  2</,  1848. 

One  Gold  Hunting-case  Watch  and  Chain, 
William  Bcauvoir. 

Dolls. 

150 

Cts. 
00 

Not   accountable  in  case  of    tire,  damage,  moth,  robb.  ry,  breakatfr,  &c.     25 
percent,  p  r  mm.  Good  f  r  i  year  only. 


THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE.  41 

Document  No.  10. 

Letter  from  the  late  Jo/in  Phoenix,  found  among  the 
posthumous  papers  of  the  late  John  P.  Squibob,  and 
promptly  published  in  tlie  San  Diego  "  Herald" 

OFF  THE  COAST  OF  FLORIDA,  January  3d,  1849. 

MY  DEAR  SQUIB: — I  imagine  your  pathetic  in 
quiry  as  to  my  whereabouts — pathetic,  not  to  say 
hypothetic — for  I  am  now  where  I  cannot  hear  the 
dulcet  strains  of  your  voice.  I  am  on  board  ship. 
I  am  half  seas  over.  I  am  bound  for  California  by 
way  of  the  Isthmus.  I  am  going  for  the  gold,  my 
boy,  the  gold.  In  the  mean  time  I  am  lying  around 
loose  on  the  deck  of  this  magnificent  vessel,  the 
Mercy  G.  Tarbox,  of  Nantucket,  bred  by  NoaJis  Ark 
out  of  Pilot-boat,  dam  by  Mudscow  out  of  Raging 
Canawl.  The  Mercy  G.  Tarbox  is  one  of  the  best 
boats  of  Nantucket,  and  Captain  Clearstarch  is  one 
of  the  best  captains  all  along  shore — although, 
friend  Squibob,  I  feel  sure  that  you  are  about  to 
observe  that  a  captain  with  a  name  like  that  would 
give  any  one  the  blues.  But  don't  do  it,  Squib! 
Spare  me  this  once. 

But  as  a  matter  of  fact  this  ultramarine  joke  of 
yours  is  about  east.  It  was  blue  on  the  Mercy  G.— 
mighty  blue,  too.  And  it  needed  the  inspiring  hope 


42  THE  DOCUMENTS  7Ar  THE  CASE. 

of  the  gold  I  was. soon  to  pick  up  in  nuggets  to 
stiffen  n.y  backbone  to  a  respectable  degree  of 
rigidity.  I  was  about  ready  to  wilt.  But  I  discov 
ered  two  Englishmen  on  board,  and  now  I  get  along 
all  right.  We  have  formed  a  little  temperance 
society — just  we  three,  you  know — to  see  if  we  can 
not,  by  a  course  of  sampling  and  severe  study,  dis 
cover  which  of  the  captain's  liquors  is  most  danger 
ous,  so  that  we  can  take  the  pledge  not  to  touch  it. 
One  of  them  is  a  chemist  or  a  metallurgist,  or  some 
thing  scientific.  The  other  is  a  gentleman. 

The  chemist  or  metallurgist  or  something  scien 
tific  is  Professor  Titus  Peebles,  who  is  going  out  to 
prospect  for  gold.  He  feels  sure  that  his  profes 
sional  training  will  give  him  the  inside  track  in  the 
gulches  and  gold  mines.  He  is  a  smart  chap.  He 
invented  the  celebrated  "  William  Riley  Baking 
Powder" — bound  to  rise  up  every  time. 

And  here  I  must  tell  you  a  little  circumstance. 
As  I  was  coming  down  to  the  dock  in  New  York, 
to  go  aboard  the  Mercy  G.,  a  small  boy  was  wallop 
ing  a  boy  still  smaller;  so  I  made  peace,  and  wal 
loped  them  both.  And  then  they  both  began  heav 
ing  rocks  at  me,  one  of  which  I  caught  dexterously 
in  the  dexter  hand.  Yesterday,  as  I  was  pacing  the 
deck  with  the  professor,  I  put  my  hand  in  my  pocket 


THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE.  43 

and  found  this  stone.  So  I  asked  the  professor  what 
it  was. 

He  looked  at  it  and  said  it  was  gneiss. 

"Is  it?"  said  I.  "Well,  if  a  small  but  energetic 
youth  had  taken  you  on  the  back  of  the  head  with 
it,  you  would  not  think  it  so  nice! " 

And  then,  O  Squib,  he  set  out  to  explain  that  he 
meant  "gneiss,"  not  "nice!"  The  ignorance  of 
these  English  about  a  joke  is  really  wonderful.  It 
is  easy  to  see  that  they  have  never  been  brought  up 
on  them.  But  perhaps  there  was  some  excuse  for 
the  professor  that  day,  for  he  was  the  president  pro 
tern,  of  our  projected  temperance  society,  and  as 
such  he  had  been  making  a  quantitative  and  quali 
tative  analysis  of  another  kind  of  quarts. 

So  much  for  the  chemist  or  metallurgist  or  some 
thing  scientific.  The  gentleman  and  I  get  on  bet 
ter.  His  name  is  Beaver,  which  he  persists  in  spell 
ing  Beauvoir.  Ridiculous,  isn't  it?  How  easy  it  is 
to  see  that  the  English  have  never  had  the  advan 
tage  of  a  good  common-school  education — so  few  of 
them  can  spell.  Here's  a  man  don't  know  how  to 
spell  his  own  name.  And  this  shows  how  the  race 
over  there  on  the  little  island  is  degenerating.  It 
was  not  so  in  other  days.  Shakespeare,  for  instance, 
not  only  knew  how  to  spell  his  own  name,  but — and 


44  THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE. 

this  is  another  proof  of  his  superiority  to  his  con 
temporaries — he  could  spell  it  in  hah"  a  dozen  differ 
ent  ways. 

This  Beaver  is  a  clever  fellow,  and  we  get  on  first 
rate  together.  He  is  going  to  California  for  gold  — 
like  the  rest  of  us.  But  I  think  he  has  had  his  share 
— and  spent  it.  At  any  rate  he  has  not  much  now. 
I  have  been  teaching  him  poker,  and  I  am  afraid 
he  won't  have  any  soon.  I  have  an  idea  he  has 
been  going  pretty  fast — and  mostly  down  hill.  But 
he  has  his  good  points.  He  is  a  gentleman  all 
through,  as  you  can  see.  Yes,  friend  Squibob,  even 
you  could  see  right  through  him.  We  are  all  going 
to  California  together,  and  I  wonder  which  one  of 
the  three  will  turn  up  trumps  first— Beaver,  or  the 
chemist,  metallurgist  or  something  scientific,  or 
Yours  respectfully,  JOHN  PHCENIX. 

P.  S. — You  think  this  a  stupid  letter,  perhaps,  and 
not  interesting.  Just  reflect  on  my  surroundings. 
Besides,  the  interest  will  accumulate  a  good  while 
before  you  get  the  missive.  And  I  don't  know  how 
you  ever  are  to  get  it,  for  there  is  no  post-office  near 
here,  and  on  the  Isthmus  the  mails  are  as  uncertain 
as  the  females  are  everywhere.  (I  am  informed  that 
there  is  no  postage  on  old  jokes — so  I  let  that  stand.) 

J.  P. 


THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE.  45 

Document  No.  n. 

Extract  from   the  Rone    Gulch   "Palladium"  June 
3<t,  1850. 

Our  readers  may  remember  how  frequently  we 
have  declared  our  firm  belief  in  the  future  unex 
ampled  prosperity  of  Bofie  Gulch.  We  saw  it  in 
the  immediate  future  the  metropolis  of  the  Pacific 
Slope,  as  it  was  intended  by  nature  to  be.  We 
poiftted  out  repeatedly  that  a  time  would  come 
vvhefi  Bone  Gulch  would  be  an  emporium  of  the 
arts  and  sciences  afid  of  the  best  society,  even  more 
thafi  it  is  now.  We  foresaw  the  time  when  the 
best  men  from  the  old  cities  of  the  East  would 
come  flocking  to  us,  passing  with  cofitempt  the 
puny  settlement  of  Deadhorse.  But  evefl  we  did 
not  so  soon  see  that  members  of  the  aristocracy  of 
the  effete  monarchies  of  despotic  Europe  would 
acknowledge  the  undeniable  advantages  of  Bofie 
Gulch,  and  come  here  to  stay  permanently  afid  for 
ever.  Withifi  the  past  week  we  have  received 
here  Hon.  William  Beaver,  one  of  the  first  men  of 
Great  Britain  afid  Ireland,  a  statesman,  an  orator, 
a  soldier,  and  an  extefisive  traveller.  He  has  come 
to  Bone  Gulch  as  the  best  spot  oft  the  face  of  the 
everlasting  ufiiverse.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  our 


46  THE  DOCUMENTS  l\   THE  CASE. 

prominent  citizens  have  received  him  with  great 
cordiality.  Bofle  Gulch  is  not  like  Deadhorse.  We 
kftovv  a  gentleman  when  we  see  one. 

Hon.  Mr.  Beaver  is  one  of  nature's  noblemen;  he 
is  also  related  to  the  Royal  Family  of  England. 
He  is  a  second  cousin  of  the  Queen,  and  boards  at 
the  Tower  of  London  with  her  when  at  home. 
We  are  informed  that  he  has  frequently  takeft  the 
Prince  of  Wales  out  for  a  ride  ifi  his  baby-wagon. 

We  take  great  pleasure  in  congratulating  Bone 
Gulch  on  its  latest  acquisition.  And  we  know  Hon. 
Mr.  Beaver  is  sure  to  get  along  all  right  here  uflder 
the  best  climate  in  the  world  afid  with  the  ftoblest 
men  the  sun  ever  shone  on. 

Document  No.  12. 

Extract  from  the  Dead  Horse  "  Gazette  and  Courier 
of  Civilization"  of  August  26th,  1850. 

BONEGULCH'S  BRITISHER. 

Bonegulch  sits  in  sackcloth  and  ashes  and  cools 
her  mammoth  cheek  in  the  breezes  of  Colorado 
Canyon.  The  self-styled  Emporium  of  the  West  has 
lost  her  British  darling,  Beaver  Bill,  the  big  swell 
who  was  first  cousin  to  the  Marquis  of  Buckingham 
and  own  grandmother  to  the  Emperor  of  China, 


THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE.  47 

the  man  with  the  biled  shirt  and  low-necked  shoes. 
This  curled  darling  of  the  Bonegulch  aristocrat- 
worshippers  passed  through  Deadhorse  yesterday, 
clean  bust.  Those  who  remember  how  the  four-fin 
gered  editor  of  the  Bonegulch  Palladium  pricked 
up  his  ears  and  lifted  up  his  falsetto  crow  when  this 
lovely  specimen  of  the  British  snob  first  honored 
him  by  striking  him  for  a  $  will  appreciate  the  point 
of  the  joke. 

It  is  said  that  the  Palladium  is  going  to  come 
out,  when  it  makes  its  next  semi-occasional  appear 
ance,  in  full  mourning,  with  turned  rules.  For  this 
festive  occasion  we  offer  Brother  B.  the  use  of  our 
late  retired  Spanish  font,  which  we  have  discarded 
for  the  new  and  elegant  dress  in  which  we  appear  to 
day  and  to  which  we  have  elsewhere  called  the  at 
tention  of  our  readers.  It  will  be  a  change  for  the 
Palladium's  eleven  unhappy  readers,  who  are  getting 
very  tired  of  the  old  type  cast  for  the  Concha 
Mission  in  1811,  which  tries  to  make  up  for  its  lack 
of  w's  by  a  plentiful  superfluity  of  greaser  v's.  How 
are  you,  Brother  Biles? 

"  We  don't  know  a  gent  when  we  see  him."     Oh 


48  THE  DOCUMENTS  IN   THE  CASE. 

Document  No.  13. 

Paragraph  from  "  Police  Court  Notrs"  in  the  New 
Cenlrcville  \late Dead  Horsc\  " Evening  Gazette" 
January  2ti,  1858. 

HYMENEAL   HIGH   JINKS. 

William  Beaver,  better  known  ten  years  ago  as 
"  Beaver  Bill,"  is  now  a  quiet  and  prosperous  agri 
culturist  in  the  Steal  Valley.  He  was,  however, 
a  pioneer  in  the  1849  movement,  and  a  vivid  mem 
ory  of  this  fact  at  times  moves  him  to  quit  his  bucol 
ic  labors  and  come  in  town  for  a  real  old-fashioned 
tare.  He  arrived  in  New  Centrevillc  during  Christ 
mas  week  and  got  married  suddenly,  but  not  un 
expectedly,  yesterday  morning.  His  friends  took 
it  upon  themselves  to  celebrate  the  joyful  occasion, 
rare  in  the  experience  of  at  least  one  of  the  parties, 
by  getting  very  high  on  Irish  Ike's  whiskey  and 
serenading  the  newly-married  couple  with  fish-horns, 
horse  fiddles,  and  other  improvised  musical  instru 
ments.  Six  of  the  participators  in  this  epithala- 
mial  serenade,  namely,  Jose  Tanco,  Hiram  Scuttles, 
John  P.  Jones,  Hermann  Bumgardner,  Jean  Durant 
("Frenchy"),  and  Bernard  McGinnig  ("Big  Bar- 
ney "),  were  taken  in  tow  by  the  police  force,  as 
sisted  by  citizens,  and  locked  up  over  night,  to  cool 


THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE.  49 

their  generous  enthusiasm  in  the  gloomy  dungeons, 
of  Justice  Skinner's  calaboose.  This  morning  all 
were  discharged  with  a  reprimand,  except  Big  Bar 
ney  and  Jose  Tanco,  who,  being  still  drunk,  were  al 
lotted  ten  days  in  default  of  $10.  The  bridal  pair 
left  this  noon  for  the  bridegroom's  ranch. 

Document  No.  14. 

Extract  from   t/ie  New    York  "Herald"  for  June 
250",  1861. 

THE  REDSKINS, 


A     BORDER     WAR    AT     LAST. 


INDIAN   INSURRECTION. 


RED   DEVILS   RISING. 


WOMEN  AND  CHILDREN  SEEKING  SAFETY  IN  THE  LARGER  TOWNS. 


HORRIBLE  HOLOCAUSTS  ANTICIPATED. 


BURYING  THE   HATCHET — IN  THE  WHITE  MAN'S  HEAD. 


[SPECIAL  DISPATCH  TO  THE  NEW  YORK  HERALD.] 

CHICAGO,  June  22.  1861. 

Great  uneasiness  exists  all  along  the  Indian  fron 
tier.     Nearly  all  the  regular  troops  have  been  with- 


50  THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE. 

drawn  from  the  West  for  service  in  the  South. 
With  the  return  of  the  warm  weather  it  seems  cer 
tain  that  the  redskins  will  take  advantage  of  the 
opportunity  thus  offered,  and  inaugurate  a  bitter 
and  vindictive  fight  against  the  whites.  Rumors 
come  from  the  agencies  that  the  Indians  are  leaving 
in  numbers.  A  feverish  excitement  among  them 
has  been  easily  to  be  detected.  Their  ponies  are 
now  in  good  condition,  and  forage  can  soon  be  had 
in  abundance  on  the  prairie,  if  it  is  not  already. 
Everything  points  towards  a  sudden  and  startling 
outbreak  of  hostilities. 

[SPBCIAL   DISPATCH   TO  THK   NEW    YORK    HERALD.] 

ST.  PAUL,  June  22,  1861. 

The  Sioux  near  here  are  all  in  a  ferment.  Ex 
perienced  Indian  fighters  say  the  signs  of  a  speedy 
going  on  the  war-path  are  not  to  be  mistaken.  No 
one  can  tell  how  soon  the  whole  frontier  may  be  in 
a  bloody  blaze.  The  women  and  children  are  rap 
idly  coming  in  from  all  exposed  settlements.  Noth 
ing  overt  as  yet  has  transpired,  but  that  the  Indians 
will  collide  very  soon  with  the  settlers  is  certain. 
All  the  troops  have  been  withdrawn.  In  our  de 
fenceless  state  there  is  no  knowing  how  many  lives 
may  be  lost  before  the  regiments  of  volunteers  now 
can  take  the  field. 


THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE.  51 

LATER. 


THE  WAR  BEGUN. 


FIRST  BLOOD  FOR   THE  INDIANS. 


THE   SCALPING-KNIFE   AND   THE    TOMAHAWK   AT   WORK  AGAIN. 


[SPECIAL  DISPATCH  TO  THE  NEW  YORK  HERALD.] 

BLACK  WING  AGENCY,  June  22,  1861. 
The  Indians  made  a  sudden  and  unexpected  at 
tack  on  the  town  of  Coyote  Hill,  forty  miles  from 
here,  last  night,  and  did  much  damage  before  the 
surprised  settlers  rallied  and  drove  them  off.  The 
redskins  met  with  heavy  losses.  Among  the  whites 
killed  are  a  man  named  William  Beaver,  sometimes 
called  Beaver  Bill,  and  his  wife.  Their  child,  a  beau 
tiful  little  girl  of  two,  was  carried  off  by  the  red  ras 
cals.  A  party  has  been  made  up  to  pursue  them. 
Owing  to  their  taking  their  wounded  with  them,  the 
trail  is  very  distinct. 


52  THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE. 

Document  No.  15. 

Letter  from  Mrs.  Edgar  Saville,  in  San  Francisco, 
to  Mr.  Edgar  Sai'ille,  in  Chicago. 


. 
**'* 

MONSTER  VARIETY  AND  DRAMATIC  COMBINATION. 

ON  THE  ROAD. 


G.  If.  K.  McCULL  UM, 

Treasurer. 

HI.  SAMUELS, 

Stage  Manager. 


/NO.  SHANKS, 


Adi'ance. 


No  dates  filled  except  with  first- 
class  houses. 

If  all  owners  will  please  consider 
silence  a  polite  negative. 


SAN  FRANCISCO,  January  29,  1863. 
MY  DEAR  OLD  MAN! — Here  we  are  in  our  second 
week  at  Frisco  and  you  will  be  glad  to  know  play 
ing  to  steadily  increasing  biz,  having  signed  for  two 
weeks  more,  certain.  I  didn't  like  to  mention  it 
when  I  wrote  you  last,  but  things  were  very  queer 
after  we  left  Denver,  and  "  Treasury  "  was  a  mock 
ery  till  we  got  to  Bluefoot  Springs,  which  is  a  min 
ing  town,  where  we  showed  in  the  hotel  dining-room. 
Then  there  was  a  strike  just  before  the  curtain  went 
up.  The  house  was  mostly  miners  in  red  shirts  and 
very  exacting.  The  sinews  were  forthcoming  very 
quick  my  dear,  and  after  that  the  ghost  walked 
quite  regular.  So  now  everything  is  bright,  and 
you  won't  have  to  worry  if  Chicago  doesn't  do  the 
right  thing  by  you. 


THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE.  53 

I  don't  find  this  engagement  half  as  disagreeable 
as  I  expected.  Of  course  it  ain't  so  very  nice  trav 
elling  in  a  combination  with  variety  talent  but  they 
keep  to  themselves  and  we  regular  professionals  make 
a  happy  family  that  Barnum  would  not  be  ashamed 
of  and  quite  separate  and  comfortable.  We  don't 
associate  with  any  of  them  only  with  The  Unique 
Mulligan's  wife,  because  he  beats  her.  So  when  he 
is  on  a  regular  she  sleeps  with  me. 

And  talking  of  liquor  dear  old  man,  if  you  knew 
how  glad  and  proud  I  was  to  see  you  writing  so 
straight  and  steady  and  beautiful  in  your  three  last 
letters.  O,  I'm  sure  my  darling  if  the  boys  thought 
of  the  little  wife  out  on  the  road  they  wouldn't 
plague  you  so  with  the  Enemy.  Tell  Harry  Atkin 
son  this  from  me,  he  has  a  good  kind  heart  but  he  is 
the  worst  of  your  friends.  Every  night  when  I  am 
dressing  I  think  of  you  at  Chicago,  and  pray  you 
may  never  again  go  on  the  way  you  did  that  terri 
ble  night  at  Rochester.  Tell  me  dear,  did  you  look 
handsome  in  Horatio?  You  ought  to  have  had 
Laertes  instead  of  that  duffing  Merivale. 

And  now  I  have  the  queerest  thing  to  teM  you. 
Jardine  is  going  in  for  Indians  and  has  secured  six 
very  ugly  ones.  I  mean  real  Indians,  not  profes 
sional.  They  are  hostile  Comanshies  or  something 


54  THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE. 

who  have  just  laid  down  their  arms.  They  had  an 
insurrection  in  the  first  year  of  the  War,  when  the 
troops  went  East,  and  they  killed  all  the  settlers 
and  ranches  and  destroyed  the  canyons  somewhere 
out  in  Nevada,  and  when  they  were  brought  here 
they  had  a  wee  little  kid  with  them  only  four  or  five 
years  old,  but  so  sweet.  They  stole  her  and  killed 
her  parents  and  brought  her  up  for  their  own  in  the 
cunningest  little  moccasins.  She  could  not  speak  a 
word  of  English  except  her  own  name  which  is  Nina. 
She  has  blue  eyes  and  all  her  second  teeth.  The 
ladies  here  made  a  great  fuss  about  her  and  sent  her 
flowers  and  worsted  afgans,  but  they  did  not  do 
anything  else  for  her  and  left  her  to  us. 

O  dear  old  man  you  must  let  me  have  her !  You 
never  refused  me  a  thing  yet  and  she  is  so  like  our 
Avonia  Marie  that  my  heart  almost  breaks  when  she 
puts  her  arms  around  my  neck — she  calls  me  mamma 
already.  I  want  to  have  her  with  us  when  we  get 
the  little  farm — and  it  must  be  near,  that  little  farm 
of  ours — we  have  waited  for  it  so  long—  and  some 
thing  tells  me  my  own  old  faker  will  make  his  hit 
soon  and  be  great.  You  can't  tell  how  I  have  loved 
it  and  hoped  for  it  and  how  real  every  foot  of  that 
farm  is  to  me.  And  though  I  can  never  see  my 
own  darling's  face  among  the  roses  it  will  make  me 


THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE.  55 

so  happy  to  see  this  poor  dead  mother's  pet  get  red 
and  rosy  in  the  country  air.  And  till  the  farm 
comes  we  shall  always  have  enough  for  her,  without 
your  ever  having  to  black  up  again  as  you  did  for 
me  the  winter  I  was  sick  my  own  poor  boy! 

Write  me  yes — you  will  be  glad  when  you  see  her. 
And  now  love  and  regards  to  Mrs.  Barry  and  all 
friends.  Tell  the  Worst  of  Managers  that  he  knows 
where  to  find  his  leading  juvenile  for  next  season. 
Think  how  funny  it  would  be  for  us  to  play  to 
gether  next  year — we  haven't  dene  it  since  "57 — the 
third  year  we  were  married.  That  was  my  first 
season  higher  than  walking — and  now  I'm  quite  an 
old  woman — most  thirty  dear! 

Write  me  soon  a  letter  like  that  last  one — and 
sfcnd  a  kiss  to  Nina — our  Nina. 

Your  own  girl, 

MARY. 

P.  S.     He  has  not  worried  me  since. 


Nina  drew  this  herself  she  says  it  is  a  horse  so 
that  you  can  get  here  soon. 


56  THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE. 

III. 

Document  No.  16. 

Letter  from  Jlfessrs.  Tlirostlctluvaite,  Throstlcthwaitc, 
and  Dick,  Solicitors,  Lincoln's  Inn,  London,  Lng- 
land,  to  Jlfcssrs.  Hitchcock  and  Van  Rcnssclacr, 
Attorneys  and  Counsellors  at  Laiv,  76  Broadway, 
Neiv  York,  U.  S.  A. 

January  8,  1879. 

MESSRS.  HITCHCOCK  AND  VAN  RENSSELAEK. 

GENTLEMEN  : — On  the  death  of  our  late  client,  Sir 
William  Beauvoir,  Bart.,  and  after  the  reading  of 
the  deceased  gentleman's  will,  drawn  up  nearly  forty 
years  ago  by  our  Mr.  Dick,  we  were  requested  by 
Oliver  Beauvoir,  Esq.,  the  second  son  of  the  late  Sir 
William,  to  assist  him  in  discovering  and  communi 
cating  with  his  elder  brother,  the  present  Sir  Wil 
liam  Beauvoir,  of  whose  domicile  we  have  little  or 
no  information. 

After  a  consultation  between  Mr.  Oliver  Beauvoir 
and  our  Mr.  Dick,  it  was  seen  that  the  sole  knowl 
edge  in  our  possession  amounted  substantially  to 
this:  Thirty  years  ago  the  elder  son  of  the  late  bar 
onet,  after  indulging  in  dissipation  in  every  possible 
form,  much  to  the  sorrow  of  his  respected  parent, 


THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE.  57 

who  frequently  expressed  as  much  to  our  Mr.  Dick, 
disappeared,  leaving  behind  him  bills  and  debts  of 
all  descriptions,  which  we,  under  instructions  from 
Sir  William,  examined,  audited,  and  paid.  Sir  Wil 
liam  Beauvoir  would  allow  no  search  to  be  made  for 
his  erring  son  and  would  listen  to  no  mention  of  his 
name.  Current  gossip  declared  that  he  had  gone  to 
New  York,  where  he  probably  arrived  about  mid 
summer,  1848.  Mr.  Oliver  Beauvoir  thinks  that  he 
crossed  to  the  States  in  company  with  a  distin 
guished  scientific  gentleman,  Professor  Titus  Peebles. 
Within  a  year  after  his  departure  news  came  that 
he  had  gone  to  California  with  Professor  Peebles; 
this  was  about  the  time  gold  was  discovered  in  the 
States.  That  the  present  Sir  William  Beauvoir  did 
about  this  time  actually  arrive  on  the  Pacific  Coast 
in  company  with  the  distinguished  scientific  man 
above  mentioned,  we  have  every  reason  to  believe : 
we  have  even  direct  evidence  on  the  subject.  A 
former  junior  clerk,  who  had  left  us  at  about  the 
same  period  as  the  disappearance  of  the  elder  son 
of  our  late  client,  accosted  our  Mr.  Dick  when  the 
latter  was  in  Paris  last  summer,  and  informed  him 
(our  Mr.  Dick)  that  he  (the  former  junior  clerk)  was 
now  a  resident  of  Nevada  and  a  member  of  Con 
gress  for  that  county,  and  in  the  course  of  conver 


58  THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE. 

sation  he  mentioned  that  he  had  seen  Professor 
Peebles  and  the  son  of  our  late  client  in  San  Fran 
cisco,  nearly  thirty,  years  ago.  Other  information 
we  have  none.  It  ought  not  to  be  difficult  to  dis 
cover  Professor  Peebles,  whose  scientific  attain 
ments  have  doubtless  ere  this  been  duly  recognized 
by  the  U.  S.  government.  As  our  late  client  leaves 
the  valuable  family  estate  in  Lancashire  to  his  elder 
son  and  divides  the  remainder  equally  between  his 
two  sons,  you  will  readily  see  why  we  invoke  your 
assistance  in  discovering  the  present  domicile  of  the 
late  baronet's  elder  son,  or,  in  default  thereof,  in 
placing  in  our  hand  such  proof  of  his  death  as  may 
be  necessary  to  establish  that  lamentable  fact  in  our 
probate  court. 

We  have  the  honor  to  remain,  as  ever,  your  most 
humble  and  obedient  servants, 

TlIROSTLETHWAITE,  THKOSTLETHWAITE,  AND  DlCK. 

P.  S.— Our  late  client's  grandson,  Mr.  William 
Beauvoir,  the  only  child  of  Oliver  Beauvoir,  Esq., 
is  now  in  the  States,  in  Chicago  or  Nebraska  or 
somewhere  in  the  West.  We  shall  be  pleased  if 
you  can  keep  him  informed  as  to  the  progress  of 
your  investigations.  Our  Mr.  Dick  has  requested 
Mr.  Oliver  Beauvoir  to  give  his  son  your  address, 


THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE.  59 

and    to   suggest    his   calling  on    you  as  he   passes 
through  New  York  on  his  way  home. 

T.  T.  &  D. 


Document  No.  17. 

Letter  front  Messrs.  Hitchcock  and  Van  Rensselaer, 
New  York,  to  Messrs.  Pixley  and  Sutton,  Attorneys 
and  Counsellors  at  Law,  98  California  Street,  San 
Francisco,  California. 

Xaw  Offices  of  Ibftcbcocfc  &  Dan  IRenseelaer, 

76  JBroafcwaB,  IKew  U>orfc. 

P.  <S>.  JBoj  4076. 

Jan.  22,  1879. 

MESSRS.  PIXLEY  &  SUTTON. 

GENTLEMEN  : — We  have  just  received  from  our 
London  correspondents,  Messrs.  Throstlethwaite, 
Throstlethwaite,  and  Dick,  of  Lincoln's  Inn,  Lon 
don,  the  letter,  a  copy  of  which  is  herewith  inclosed, 
to  which  we  invite  your  attention.  We  request  that 
you  will  do  all  in  your  power  to  aid  us  in  the  search 
for  the  missing  Englishman.  From  the  letter  of 
Messrs.  Throstlethwaite,  Throstlethwaite,  and  Dick, 
it  seems  extremely  probable,  not  to  say  certain,  that 
Mr.  Beauvoir  arrived  in  your  city  about  1849,  m 
company  with  a  distinguished  English  scientist,  Pro 
fessor  Titus  Peebles,  whose  professional  attainments 


6o  THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE. 

were  such  that  he  is  probably  well  known,  if  not  in 
California,  at  least  in  some  other  of  the  mining 
States.  The  first  thing  to  be  done,  therefore,  it 
seems  to  us,  is  to  ascertain  the  whereabouts  of  the 
professor,  and  to  interview  him  at  once.  It  may  be 
that  he  has  no  knowledge  of  the  present  domicile  of 
Mr.  William  Beauvoir,  in  which  case  we  shall  rely 
on  you  to  take  such  steps  as,  in  your  judgment,  will 
best  conduce  to  a  satisfactory  solution  of  the  mys 
tery.  In  any  event,  please  look  up  Professor  Peebles 
and  interview  him  at  once. 

Pray  keep  us  fully  informed  by  telegraph  of  your 
movements  Yr  obt  serv'ts, 

HITCHCOCK  &  VAN  RENSSELAER. 


Document  No.  18. 

Telegram  from  Afessrs.  Pixley  and  Suit  on,  Attorneys 
and  Counsellors  at  Law,  98  California  Street,  San 
Francisco,  California,  to  Afcssrs.  Hitclicock  and 
Van  Rensselacr,  Attorncysand  Counsellors  at  Law, 
76  Broadway,  New  York. 

SAN  FRANCISCO.  CAI,.,  Jan.  30. 

Tite  Peebles  well  known  frisco  not  professor  keeps 
faro  bank. 

PIXLEY  &  SUTTON.    (D.  H.  919.) 


THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE.  61 

Document  No.  19. 

Telegram  from  Messrs.  Hitchcock  and  Van  Rensse- 
laer  to  Messrs.  Pixley  and  Sutton,  in  answer  to  the 
preceding. 

NEW  YORK,  Jan.  30. 

Must    be    mistake   Titus    Peebles    distinguished 
scientist. 

HITCHCOCK  &  VAN  RENSSELAER. 
(Free.     Answer  to  D.  H.) 

Document  No.  20. 

Telegram  from  Messrs.  Pixley  and  Sutton  to  Messrs, 
Hitclicock  and  Van  Rensselacr,  in  reply  to  the  pre 
ceding. 

SAN  FRANCISCO,  CAL.,  Jan.  30. 

No  mistake  distinguished  faro  banker  suspected 
skin  game  shall  we  interview. 

PIXLEY  &  SUTTON.      (D.  H.  919.) 

Document  No.  21. 

Telegram  from  Messrs.  HitcJicock  and  Van  Rensselaer 
to  Messrs.  Pixley  and  Sutton,  in  reply  to  the  pre 
ceding. 

NEW  YORK,  Jan.  30. 

Must  be  mistake  interview  anyway. 

HITCHCOCK  &  VAN  RENSSELAER. 
(Free.     Answer  to  D.   H.) 


62  THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE. 

Document  No.  22. 

Telegram  from  Messrs.  Pixley  and  Sutton  to  Messrs. 
Hitchcock  and  Van  Rensselaer,  in  reply  to  the  pre 
ceding. 

SAN  FRANCISCO,  CAL.,  Jan.  30 
Peebles  out  of  town  have  written  him. 

PIXLEY  &  SUTTON.      (D.  H.  919.) 

Document  No.  23. 

Letter  from  Tite  W.  Peebles,  delegate  to  the  California 
Constitutional  Convention,  Sacramento,  to  Messrs. 
Pixlcy  and  Sutton,  98  California  Street,  San  Fran 
cisco,  California. 

SACRAMENTO.  Feb.  2,  '79. 
MESSRS.  PIXLEY  &  BUTTON,  San  Francisco. 

GENTLEMEN:— Your  favor  of  the  3ist  ult.,  for 
warded  me  from  San  Francisco,  has  been"  duly  rec'd, 
and  contents  thereof  noted. 

My  time  is  at  present  so  fully  occupied  by  my 
duties  as  a  delegate  to  the  Constitutional  Convention 
that  I  can  only  jot  down  a  brief  report  of  my  recol 
lections  on  this  head.  When  I  return  to  S.  F.,  I 
shall  be  happy  to  give  you  any  further  information 
that  may  be  in  my  possession. 

The  person  concerning  whom  you  inquire  was  my 
fellow-passenger  on  my  first  voyage  to  this  State 


THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE.  63 

on  board  the  Mercy  G.  Tarbox,  in  the  latter  part  of 
the  year.  He  was  then  known  as  Mr.  William 
Beauvoir.  I  was  acquainted  with  his  history,  of 
which  the  details  escape  me  at  this  writing.  He 
was  a  countryman  of  mine;  a  member  of  an  im 
portant  county  family — Devonian,  I  believe — and 
had  left  England  on  account  of  large  gambling 
debts,  of  which  he  confided  to  me  the  exact  figure. 
I  believe  they  totted  up  something  like  .£14,500. 

I  had  at  no  time  a  very  intimate  acquaintance 
with  Mr.  Beauvoir;  during  our  sojourn  on  the  Tar- 
box  he  was  the  chosen  associate  of  a  depraved  and 
vicious  character  named  Phoenix.  I  am  not  averse 
from  saying  that  I  was  then  a  member  of  a  profes 
sion  rather  different  to  my  present  one,  being,  in 
fact,  professor  of  metallurgy,  and  I  saw  much  less, 
at  that  period,  of  Mr.  B.  than  I  probably  should 
now. 

Directly  we  landed  at  S.  F.,  the  object  of  your 
inquiries  set  out  for  the  gold  region,  without  ade 
quate  preparation,  like  so  many  others  did  at  that 
time,  and,  I  heard,  fared  very  ill 

I  encountered  him  some  six  months  later;  I  have 
forgotten  precisely  in  what  locality,  though  I  have 
a  faint  impression  that  his  then  habitat  was  some 
canyon  or  ravine  deriving  its  name  from  certain  os- 


64  THE  DOCUMENTS  IX  THE  CASE. 

seous  deposits.  Here  he  had  engaged  in  the  busi 
ness  of  gold-mining,  without,  perhaps,  sufficient 
grounds  for  any  confident  hope  of  ultimate  success. 
1  have  his  I.  O.  U.  for  the  amount  of  my  fee  for 
assaying  several  specimens  from  his  claim,  said  speci 
mens  being  all  iron  pyrites. 

This  is  all  I  am  able  to  call  to  mind  at  present  in 
the  matter  of  Mr.  Beauvoir.  I  trust  his  subsequent 
career  was  of  a  nature  better  calculated  to  be  satis 
factory  to  himself;  but  his  mineralogical  knowledge 
was  but  superficial ;  and  his  character  was  sadly 
deformed  by  a  fatal  taste  for  low  associates. 

I  remain,  gentlemen,  your  very  humble  and  obd't 
servant,  TlTUS  W.  PEEBLES. 

P.  S.— Private. 

MY  DEAR  PlX  : — If  you  don't  feel  inclined  to  pony 
up  that  little  sum  you  are  out  on  the  bay  gelding, 
drop  down  to  my  place  when  I  get  back  and  I'll 
give  you  another  chance  for  your  life  at  the  paste 
boards.  Constitution  going  through. 

Yours,  TlTE. 


THE  DOCUMENTS  IAT  THE  CASE.  65 

IV. 
Document  No.  24. 

Extract  from  the  New  Centrcmlle  \Jate  Dead  Horse] 
"  Gazette  and  Courier  of  Civilization,"  December 
20f/l,  18/8. 

Miss  Nina  Saville  appeared  last  night  at  the  Mendocino 
Grand  Opera  House,  in  her  unrivalled  specialty  of  Winona, 
the  Child  of  the  Prairies  ;  supported  by  Tornpkins  and  Fro- 
bisher's  Grand  Stellar  Constellation.  Although  Miss  Saville 
has  long  been  known  as  one  of  the  most  promising  of  Cali 
fornia's  young  tragediennes,  we  feel  safe  in  saying  that  the 
impression  she  produced  upon  the  large  and  cultured  au 
dience  gathered  to  greet  her  last  night  stamped  her  as  one  of 
the  greatest  and  most  phenomenal  geniuses  of  our  own  or 
other  times.  Her  marvellous  beauty  of  form  and  feature, 
added  to  her  wonderful  artistic  power,  and  her  perfect  mas 
tery  of  the  difficult  science  of  clog-dancing,  won  her  an  im 
mediate  place  in  the  hearts  of  our  citizens,  and  confirmed  the 
belief  that  California  need  no  longer  look  to  Europe  or 
Chicago  for  dramatic  talent  of  the  highest  order.  The  sylph- 
like  beauty,  the  harmonious  and  ever-varying  grace,  the 
vivacity  and  the  power  of  the  young  artist  who  made  her 
maiden  effort  among  us  last  night,  prove  conclusively  that  the 
virgin  soil  of  California  teems  with  yet  undiscovered  fires  of 
genius.  The  drama  of  Winona,  the  Child  of  the  Prairies,  is 
a  pure,  refined,  and  thoroughly  absorbing  entertainment,  and 
has  been  pronounced  by  the  entire  press  of  the  country  equal 
to  if  not  superior  to  the  fascinating  Lady  of  Lyons.  It  intro 
duces  all  the  favorites  of  the  company  in  new  and  original 
characters,  and  with  its  original  music,  which  is  a  prominent 
5 


66  THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE. 

feature,  has  already  received  over  200  representations  in  the 
principal  cities  in  the  country.  It  abounds  in  effective  situa 
tions,  striking  tableaux,  and  a  most  quaint  and  original 
concert  entitled  "  The  Mule  Fling,"  which  alone  is  worth  the 
price  of  admission.  As  this  is  the  first  presentation  in  this 
city,  the  theatre  will,  no  doubt,  be  crowded,  and  seats  will  be 
secured  early  in  the  day.  The  drama  will  be  preceded  by 
that  prince  of  humorists,  Mr.  Billy  Barker,  in  his  humorous 
sketches  and  pictures  from  life. 


We  quote  the  above  from  our  esteemed  contem 
porary,  the  Mendocino  Gazette,  at  the  request  of 
Mr.  7eke  Kilburn,  Miss  Saville's  advance  agent,  who 
has  still  further  appealed  to  us,  not  only  on  the 
ground  of  our  common  humanity,  but  as  the  only 
appreciative  and  thoroughly-informed  critics  on  the 
Pacific  Slope,  to  "  indorse  "  this  rather  vivid  expres 
sion  of  opinion.  Nothing  will  give  us  greater  pleas 
ure.  Allowing  for  the  habitual  enthusiasm  of  our 
northern  neighbor,  and  for  the  well-known  chaste 
aridity  of  Mendocino  in  respect  of  female  beauty, 
we  have  no  doubt  that  Miss  Nina  Saville  is  all  that 
the  fancy,  peculiarly  opulent  and  active  even  for  an 
advance  agent,  of  Mr.  Kilburn  has  painted  her,  and 
is  quite  such  a  visJon  of  youth,  beauty,  and  artistic 
phenomenality  as  will  make  the  stars  of  Paris  and 
Illinois  pale  their  ineffectual  fires. 

Miss  Saville  will  appear  in  her  "  unrivalled  spe- 


THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE.  67 

cialty"at  Hanks'  New  Centreville  Opera  House  to 
morrow  night,  as  may  be  gathered,  in  a  general  way, 
from  an  advertisement  in  another  column. 

We  should  not  omit  to  mention  that  Mr.  Zeke 
Kilburn,  Miss  Saville's  advance  agent,  is  a  gentle 
man  of  imposing  presence,  elegant  manners,  and 
complete  knowledge  of  his  business.  This  informa 
tion  may  be  relied  upon  as  at  least  authentic,  having 
been  derived  from  Mr.  Kilburn  himself,  to  which 
we  can  add,  as  our  own  contribution,  the  statement 
that  Mr.  Kilburn  is  a  gentleman  of  marked  liberality 
in  his  ideas  of  spirituous  refreshments,  and  of  equal 
originality  in  his  conception  of  the  uses,  objects,  and 
personal  susceptibilities  of  the  journalistic  profes 
sion. 

Document  No.  25. 

Local  item  from   the  New  Centreville   "Standard" 
December  2oth,  1878. 

Hon.  William  Beauvoir  has  registered  at  the 
United  States  Hotel.  Mr.  Beauvoir  is  a  young 
English  gentleman  of  great  wealth,  now  engaged  in 
investigating  the  gigantic  resources  of  this  great 
country.  We  welcome  him  to  New  Centreville. 


68  THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE. 

Document  No.  26. 

Programme  of  the  performance  given  in  the  Centre 
ville  Tlicatre ,  December  2  \  sf,  1878. 

HANKS'  HEW  CENTREY1LI.E  OPERA  HOUSE. 

A.  JACKSON  HANKS Sole  Proprietor  and  Manager. 

FIB8T    APPEARANCE    IK    THIS    CITY    OP 

TOMPKINS  &  FROBISHER'S 
GRAND  STELLAR  CONSTELLATION, 

Supporting  California's  favorite  daughter,  the  young  American 
Tragedienne, 

MISS   NINA   SAVILLE, 

Who  will  appear  in  Her  Unrivalled  Specialty, 

"WINONA,  THE  CHILD  OF  THE  PBAIRIE." 

THIS    EVENING,    DECEMBER     21st,     1878, 

Will  be  presented,  with  the  following  phenomenal  cast,  the  accepted 
American  Drama, 

WINONA,  THE  CHILD  OF  THE  PRAIRIE. 

WINONA 

MissKLOUA  MACMAD1SON 

BIDDY  FI.AHEKTY I     Miss  NINA 

OLD  AfXT  DINAH  (with  Song,  "  Don't  Get  Weary"). . . 

SALLY  HOSK1XS  (with  the  Old-time  melody,  "  Bobbin'  Around  ") SAVILLE. 

KX>R  JOE  (with  Sonir) 

FRAl'LIXELlNAB<H>BEXSTElN^withstamiiK-rmgSoi>g,''lyoo8tlandet"  J 

SIK  EDMUND  BENNET  (specially  engaged) E.  C.  GRAINGER 

WALTON  TRAVERS G.  W.  PARSONS 

(JII-SY  JOE M.  ISAACS 

'ANN  ABLE  'GRACE  'IGG1NS BILLY  BA KKKR 

TOMMY  TIPPER Miss  MAMIE  SMITH 

PETE,  the  Man  on  the  Dix-k SI  H  ANCOi  K 

MRS.  MALONE,  the  Old  Woman  in  the  Little  House MRS.  K.  Y.  BO<  >TH 

ROBERT  BENNETT  (aged  5) LITTLE  ANNIE  WATSON 

Act  I The  Old  Home.  A.-t   II.      \l..n,    in  th«>   \\.M-I.I. 

Act  III.-Tlie  Frozen  Gulf: 

THE    C3REAT    ICEBERG     SENSATION. 
Act  IV.- -Wedding  Itello. 

"  WINONA,  THE  CHILD  OK  THE  PRAIRIE,"  WILL  BE  PRECEDED  BY 

A    FAVORITE    FARCE, 

In  which  the  great  BILLY  BARKER  will   appear  in   one  of  his   most  outrage 
ously  funny  bits. 

NEW  SCENERY  by  Q.  25.  SLOCTTM. 

Music  by  Professor  Kiddoo's  Silver  Bugle  Brass  Band  and 

Philharmonic  Orchestra. 

Chickway's  Grand  Piano,  lent  by  Schmidt,  2  Opera  House  Block. 


AFTER  THE  SHOW  GO  TO  HANKS'  AND  SEE  A  MAN! 

Pop  Williams,  the  only  legitimate  Bill -Footer  in  New  Centreville. 

(New  Centreville  Standard  Print) 


THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE.  69 

Document  No.  27. 

Extract  from  the  New  Centreville  \late  Dead  Horse} 
"  Gazette  and  Courier  of  Civilization"  December 
24//1,  1878. 

A  little  while  ago,  in  noting  the  arrival  of  Miss 
Nina  Saville,  at  the  New  Centreville  Opera  House, 
we  quoted  rather  extensively  from  our  esteemed 
contemporary,  the  Mendocino  Times,  and  com 
mented  upon  the  quotation.  Shortly  afterwards,  it 
may  also  be  remembered,  we  made  a  very  direct 
and  decided  apology  for  the  sceptical  levity  which 
inspired  those  remarks,  and  expressed  our  hearty 
sympathy  with  the  honest,  if  somewhat  effusive,  en 
thusiasm  with  which  the  dramatic  critic  of  Mendo 
cino  greeted  the  sweet  and  dainty  little  girl  who 
threw  over  the  dull,  weary  old  business  of  the  stage 
"  sensation "  the  charm  of  a  fresh  and  childlike 
beauty  and  originality,  as  rare  and  delicate  as  those 
strange,  unreasonable  little  glimmers  of  spring  sun 
sets  that  now  and  then  light  up  for  a  brief  moment 
the  dull  skies  of  winter  evenings,  and  seem  to  have 
strayed  into  ungrateful  January  out  of  sheer  pity 
for  the  sad  earth. 

Mendocino  noticed  the  facts  that  form  the  basis 
of  the  above  meteorological  simile,  and  we  believe 
we  gave  Mendocino  full  credit  for  it  at  the  time. 


70  THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE. 

We  refer  to  the  matter  at  this  date  only  because  in 
our  remarks  of  a  few  days  ago  we  had  occasion  to 
mention  the  fact  of  the  existence  of  Mr.  Zeke  Kil- 
burn,  an  advance  agent,  who  called  upon  us  at  the 
time,  to  endeavor  to  induce  us,  by  means  apparently 
calculated  more  closely  for  the  latitude  of  Mendo- 
cino,  to  extend  to  Miss  Saville,  before  her  appear 
ance,  the  critical  approbation  which  we  gladly  ex 
tended  after.  This  little  item  of  interest  we  alluded 
to  at  the  time,  and  furthermore  intimated,  with 
some  vagueness,  that  there  existed  in  Mr.  Kilburn's 
character  a  certain  misdirected  zeal  which,  combined 
with  a  too  keen  artistic  appreciation,  are  apt  to  be 
rather  dangerous  stock  in  trade  for  an  advance 
agent. 

It  was  twenty-seven  minutes  past  two  o'clock  yes 
terday  afternoon.  The  chaste  white  mystery  of 
Shigo  Mountain  was  already  taking  on  a  faint,  al 
most  imperceptible  hint  of  pink,  like  the  warm  cheek 
of  a  girl  who  hears  a  voice  and  anticipates  a  blush. 
Yet  the  rays  of  the  afternoon  sun  rested  with  un- 
diminished  radiance  on  the  empty  pork-barrel  in 
front  of  McMullin's  shebang.  A  small  and  vagrant 
infant,  whose  associations  with  empty  barrels  were 
doubtless  hitherto  connected  solely  with  dreams  of 
saccharine  dissipation,  approached  the  bung-hole 


THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE.  71 

with  precocious  caution,  and  retired  with  celerity 
and  a  certain  acquisition  of  experience.  An  unat 
tached  goat,  a  martyr  to  the  radical  theory  of  per 
sonal  investigation,  followed  in  the  footsteps  of 
infantile  humanity,  retired  with  even  greater  prompt 
itude,  and  was  fain  to  stay  its  stomach  on  a  presum 
ably  empty  rend-rock  can,  afterwards  going  into  se 
clusion  behind  McMullin's  horse-shed,  before  the 
diuretic  effect  of  tin  flavored  with  blasting-powder 
could  be  observed  by  the  attentive  eye  of  science. 

Mr.  Kilburn  emerged  from  the  hostelry  of  McMul- 
lin.  Mr.  Kilburn,  as  we  have  before  stated  at  his 
own  request,  is  a  gentleman  of  imposing  presence. 
It  is  well  that  we  made  this  statement  when  we  did, 
for  it  is  hard  to  judge  of  the  imposing  quality  in  a 
gentleman's  presence  when  that  gentleman  is  sus 
pended  from  the  arm  of  another  gentleman  by  the 
collar  of  the  first  gentleman's  coat.  The  gentleman 
in  the  rear  of  Mr.  Kilburn  was  Mr.  William  Beau- 
voir,  a  young  Englishman  in  a  check  suit.  Mr. 
Beauvoir  is  not  avowedly  a  man  of  imposing  pres 
ence;  he  wears  a  seal  ring,  and  he  is  generally  a 
scion  of  an  effete  oligarchy,  but  he  has,  since  his  in 
troduction  into  this  community,  behaved  himself,  to 
use  the  adjectival  adverb  of  Mr.  McMullin,  white, 
and  he  has  a  very  remarkable  biceps.  These  quali- 


72  THE  DOCUMENTS  IX  THE  CASE. 

ties  may  hereafter  enhance  his  popularity  in  New 
Centreville. 

Mr.  Beauvoir's  movements,  at  twenty-seven  min 
utes  past  two  yesterday  afternoon,  were  few  and 
simple.  He  doubled  Mr.  Kilburn  up,  after  the  fash 
ion  of  an  ordinary  jack-knife,  and  placed  him  in  the 
barrel,  wedge-extremity  first,  remarking,  as  he  did 
so,  "  She  is,  is  she?  "  He  then  rammed  Mr.  Kilburn 
carefully  home  and  put  the  cover  on. 

We  learn  to-day  that  Mr.  Kilburn  has  resumed 
his  professional  duties  on  the  road. 

Document  No.  28. 

Account  of  the  same  event,  from  tlie  New  Ccntrci'illc 
"  Standard"  December  241/1,  18/8. 

It  seems  strange  that  even  the  holy  influences 
which  radiate  from  this  joyous  season  cannot  keep 
some  men  from  getting  into  unseemly  wrangles. 
It  was  only  yesterday  that  our  local  saw  a  street 
row  here  in  the  quiet  avenues  of  our  peaceful  city — 
a  street  row  recalling  the  riotous  scenes  which  took 
place  here  before  Dead  Horse  experienced  a  change 
of  heart  and  became  New  Centreville.  Our  local 
succeeded  in  gathering  all  the  particulars  of  the 
affray,  and  the  following  statement  is  reliable.  It 
seems  that  Mr.  Kilburn,  the  gentlemanly  and  affable 


THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE.  73 

advance  agent  of  the  Nina  Saville  Dramatic  Com 
pany,  now  performing  at  Andy  Hanks'  Opera  House 
to  big  houses,  was  brutally  assaulted  by  a  ruffianly 
young  Englishman,  named  Beauvoir,  for  no  cause 
whatever.  We  say  for  no  cause,  as  it  is  obvious 
that  Mr.  Kilburn,  as  the  agent  of  the  troupe,  could 
have  said  nothing  against  Miss  Saville  which  an 
outsider,  not  to  say  a  foreigner  like  Mr.  Beauvoir, 
had  any  call  to  resent.  Mr.  Kilburn  is  a  gentleman 
unaccustomed  to  rough-and-tumble  encounters, 
while  his  adversary  has  doubtless  associated  more 
with  pugilists  than  gentlemen — at  least  any  one 
would  think  so  from  his  actions  yesterday.  Beauvoir 
hustled  Mr.  Kilburn  out  of  Mr.  McMullin's,  where 
the  unprovoked  assault  began,  and  violently  shook 
him  across  the  new  plank  sidewalk.  The  person  by 
the  name  of  Clark,  whom  Judge  Jones  for  some 
reason  now  permits  to  edit  the  moribund  but  once 
respectable  Gazette,  caught  the  eye  of  the  congenial 
Beauvoir,  and,  true  to  the  ungentlemanly  instincts 
of  his  base  nature,  pointed  to  a  barrel  in  the  street. 
The  brutal  Englishman  took  the  hint  and  thrust  Mr. 
Kilburn  forcibly  into  the  barrel,  leaving  the  vicinity 
before  Mr.  Kilburn,  emerging  from  his  close  quar 
ters,  had  fully  recovered.  What  the  ruffianly  Beau- 
voir's  motive  may  have  been  for  this  wanton  assault 


74  THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE. 

it  is  impossible  to  say;  but  it  is  obvious  to  all  why 
this  fellow  Clark  sought  to  injure  Mr.  Kilburn,  a 
gentleman  whose  many  good  qualities  he  of  course 
fails  to  appreciate.  Mr.  Kilburn,  recognizing  the 
acknowledged  merits  of  our  job  office,  had  given  us 
the  contract  for  all  the  printing  he  needed  in  New 
Centreville. 

Document  No.  29. 

Advertisement   from  the   New   York  "Clipper,"   De 
cember  2\st,  1878. 

WINSTON  &  MACK'S 

GRAND    INTERNATIONAL 

MEGATHERIUM  VARIETY  COMBINATION. 

COMPANY  CALL. 

Ladies  and  Gentlemen  of  the  Company  will  assemble  for  rehearsal  ;>t  Erne- 
son's  Opera  House,  San  Francisco,  <n  Wednesday,  Dec.  27th,  at  12  M.  sharp. 
Band  ;  t  n.  J.  15.  WINSTON,  (  ,. 

EDWIN  K.  MACK,  )  :vl*"»aK«»- 
Emerson's  Opera  House, 

San  K  ancisco,  Dec.  loth,  1878. 

Protean  Artist  wantt-d.     Would  like  to  hear  from  Nina  Saville. 
12— it* 

Document  No.  30. 
Letter  from  Nina  Sai'illc  to  William  Beauvoir. 

NEW  CENTREVILLE,  December  26,  1878. 
MY  DEAR  MR.  BEAUVOIR  : — I  was  very  sorry  to 
receive  your   letter  of   yesterday — very  sorry — be 
cause  there  can  be  only  one  answer  that  I  can  make 


THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE.  75 

— and  you  might  well  have  spared  me  the  pain  of 
saying  the  word — No.  You  ask  me  if  I  love  you. 
If  I  did — do  you  think  it  would  be  true  love  in  me 
to  tell  you  so,  when  I  know  what  it  would  cost  you? 
Oh  indeed  you  must  never  marry  me  f  In  your  own 
country  you  would  never  have  heard  of  me  —never 
seen  me — surely  never  written  me  such  a  letter  to 
tell  me  that  you  love  me  and  want  to  marry  me. 
It  is  not  that  I  am  ashamed  of  my  business  or  of 
the  folks  around  me,  or  ashamed  that  I  am  only  the 
charity  child  of  two  poor  players,  who  lived  and  died 
working  for  the  bread  for  their  mouths  and  mine. 
I  am  proud  of  them — yes,  proud  of  what  they  did 
and  suffered  for  one  poorer  than  themselves — a  lit 
tle  foundling  out  of  an  Indian  camp.  But  I  know 
the  difference  between  you  and  me.  You  are  a 
great  man  at  home — you  have  never  told  me  how 
great — but  I  know  your  father  is  a  rich  lord,  and  I 
suppose  you  are.  It  is  not  that  I  think  you  care  for 
that,  or  think  less  of  me  because  I  was  born  differ 
ent  from  you.  I  know  how  good — how  kind" — how 
respectful  you  have  always  been  to  me — my  lord— 
and  I  shall  never  forget  it — for  a  girl  in  my  position 
knows  well  enough  how  you  might  have  been  other 
wise.  Oh  believe  me — my  true  friend — I  am  never 
going  to  forget  all  you  have  done  for  me— and  how 


76  THE  DOCUMENTS  IX  THE  CASE. 

good  it  has  been  to  have  you  near  me — a  man  so 
different  from  most  others — I  don't  mean  only  the 
kind  things  you  have  done — the  books  and  the 
thoughts  and  the  ways  you  have  taught  me  to  enjoy 
— and  all  the  trouble  you  have  taken  to  make  me 
something  better  than  the  stupid  little  girl  I  was 
when  you  found  me — but  a  great  deal  more  than 
that — the  consideration  you  have  had  for  me  and  for 
what  I  hold  best  in  the  world.  I  had  never  met  a 
gentleman  before — and  now  the  first  one  I  meet — he 
is  my  friend.  That  is  a  great  deal. 

Only  think  of  it !  You  have  been  following  me 
around  now  for  three  months,  and  I  have  been  weak 
enough  to  allow  it.  I  am  going  to  do  the  right  thing 
now.  You  may  think  it  hard  in  me  if  you  really 
mean  what  you  say,  but  even  if  everything  else  were 
right,  I  would  not  marry  you — because  of  your 
rank.  I  do  not  know  how  things  are  at  your  home 
—but  something  tells  me  it  would  be  wrong  and 
that  your  family  would  have  a  right  to  hate  you  and 
never  forgive  you.  Professionals  cannot  go  in  your 
society.  And  that  is  even  if  I  loved  you — and  I  do 
not  love  you — I  do  not  love  you — I  do  not  love  you 
—now  I  have  written  it  you  will  believe  it. 

So  now  it  is  ended — I  am  going  back  to  the  line 
I  was  first  in — variety — and  with  a  new  name.  So 


THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE.  77 

you  can  never  find  me — I  entreat  you — I  beg  of  you 
-  not  to  look  for  me.  If  you  only  put  your  mind 
to  it — you  will  find  it  so  easy  to  forget  me — for  I 
will  not  do  you  the  wrong  to  think  that  you  did  not 
mean  what  you  wrote  in  your  letter  or  what  you 
said  that  night  when  ivc  sang  Annie  Laurie  together 

the  last  time.  Your  sincere  friend, 

NINA. 

Documents   Nos.  31  and  32. 

Items  front  the  San  Francisco  "  Figaro  "  of  December 
29//1,  1878. 

Nina  Saville  Co.  disbanded  New  Centreville  26th. 
No  particulars  received. 

Winston  &  Mack's  Comb,  takes  the  road  Decem 
ber  3 1st,  opening  at  Tuolumne  Hollow.  Manager 
Winston  announces  the  engagement  of  Anna  Laurie, 
the  Protean  change  artiste,  with  songs,  "  Don't  Get 
Weary,"  "  Bobbin'  Around,"  "  I  Yoost  Landet." 

Document  No.  33. 

Telegram  from  Zcke  Kilburn,  Neiv  Centreville,  to 
Winston  and  Mack,  Emerson  s  Opera  House,  San 
Francisco,  CaL 

NEW  CENTREVILLE,  Dec.  28,  1878. 

Have  you  vacancy  for  active  and  energetic  ad 
vance  agent. 

Z.  KILBURN. 
(9  words  30  paid.) 


78  THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE. 

Document  No.  34. 

Telegram  from   Winston  and  Mack,  San  Francisco, 
to  Zcke  Kilburn,  New  Ccntrcville. 

SAN  FRANCISCO,  Dec.  28,  1878. 
No. 

WINSTON  &  MACK. 
(Collect  30  cents.) 

Document  No.  35. 

Bill  sent  to   William  Bcanvoir,  United  States  Hotel, 
Tuolumne  Hollow,  Cal. 

Tuolumne  Hollow,   Cal.,   Dec.  29,   1878. 

William  Beauvoir,  Esq. 

Bought  of  HIMMEL  &.  HATCH, 

Opera  House  Block, 
JEWKLLERS  &  DIAMOND  MERCHANTS. 

Dealers  in  all  kinds  of  Fancy  Goods,  Stationery,  and  Umbrellas,  Watches,  Clocks, 

and  Barometers. 

TKKMS  CASH.  MUSICAL    BOXES    REPAIRED. 

Dec.   29.  One  diamond  and  enamelled  locket, $75.ou 

One  gold  chain, 48.00 

$123.00 
Reed  Payt. 

Him  me  I  &  Hatch, 

per  .V. 


THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE.  79 

V. 

Document  No.  36. 

Letter  from  Cable  J.  Dexter,  Esq.,  to  Messrs.  Fix  ley 
and  Sutton,  San  Francisco. 

NEW  CENTREVILLE,  March  3,  1879. 
MESSRS.  PIXLEY  &  SUTTON. 

GENTS : — I  am  happy  to  report  that  I  have  at  last 
reached  the  bottom  level  in  the  case  of  William 
Beaver,  alias  Beaver  Bill,  deceased  through  Indians 
in  1861. 

In  accordance  with  your  instructions  and  check, 
I  proceeded,  on  the  loth  ult.,  to  Shawgum  Creek, 
where  I  interviewed  Blue  Horse,  chief  of  the  Co- 
manches,  who  tomahawked  subject  of  your  inquiries 
in  the  year  above  mentioned.  Found  the  Horse  in 
the  penitentiary,  serving  out  a  drunk  and  disorderly. 
Though  belligerent  at  date  aforesaid,  Horse  is  now 
tame,  though  intemperate.  Appeared  unwilling  to 
converse,  and  required  stimulants  to  awaken  his 
memory.  Please  find  inclosed  memo,  of  account 
for  whiskey,  covering  extra  demijohn  to  corrupt 
jailer.  Horse  finally  stated  that  he  personally  let 
daylight  through  deceased,  and  is  willing  to  guar 
antee  thoroughness  of  decease.  Stated  further  that 
aforesaid  Beaver's  family  consisted  of  squaw  and 


8o  THE  DOCUMENTS  AV   THE  CASE. 

kid.  Is  willing  to  swear  that  squaw  was  killed,  the 
tribe  having  no  use  for  her.  Killing  done  by  Mule- 
Who-Goes-Crooked,  personal  friend  of  Horse's.  The 
minor  child  was  taken  into  camp  and  kept  until 
December  of  1863,  when  tribe  dropped  to  howling 
cold  winter  and  went  on  government  reservation. 
Infant  (female)  was  then  turned  over  to  U.  S.  Gov 
ernment  at  Fort  Kearney. 

I  posted  to  last-named  locality  on  the  l8th  ult., 
and  found  by  the  quartermaster's  books  that,  no 
one  appearing  to  claim  the  kid,  she  had  been  duly 
indentured,  together  with  six  Indians,  to  a  man  by 
the  name  of  Guardine  or  Sardine  (probably  the 
latter),  in  the  show  business.  The  Indians  were  in 
voiced  as  Sage  Brush  Jimmy,  Boiling  Hurricane, 
Mule-Who-Goes-Crooked,  Joe,  Hairy  Grasshopper, 
and  Dead  Polecat.  Child  known  as  White  Kitten. 
Receipt  for  Indians  was  signed  by  Mr.  Hi.  Samuels, 
who  is  still  in  the  circus  business,  and  whom  I  hap- 
pen  to  be  selling  out  at  this  moment,  at  suit  of 
McCullum  &  Montmorency,  former  partners.  Sam 
uels  positively  identified  kid  with  variety  specialist 
by  name  of  Nina  Saville,  who  has  been  showing  all 
through  this  region  for  a  year  past. 

I  shall  soon  have  the  pleasure  of  laying  before 
you  documents  to  establish  the  complete  chain  of 


THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE.  81 

evidence,  from   knifing  of  original  subject  of  your 
inquiries  right  up  to  date.  . 

I  have  to-day  returned  from  New  Centreville, 
whither  I  went  after  Miss  Saville.  Found  she  had 
just  skipped  the  town  with  a  young  Englishman  by 
the  name  of  Bovoir,  who  had  been  paying  her  polite 
attentions  for  some  time,  having  bowied  or  other 
wise  squelched  a  man  for  her  within  a  week  or  two. 
It  appears  the  young  woman  had  refused  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  him  for  a  long  period ;  but  he 
seems  to  have  struck  pay  gravel  about  two  days 
before  my  arrival.  At  present,  therefore,  the  trail 
is  temporarily  lost ;  but  I  expect  to  fetch  the  couple 
if  they  are  anywhere  this  side  of  the  Rockies. 

Awaiting  your  further  instructions,  and  cash 
backing  thereto,  I  am,  gents,  very  resp'y  yours, 

CABLE  J.  DEXTER. 

Document  No.  37. 

Envelope  of  letter  front  Sir  Oliver  Beauvoir,  Bart., 
to  his  son,  William  Beauvoir. 


Sent  to  Dead  Letter  Office 

William  Beauvoir,  Esq. 

Sherman  House  Hotel 


Not  ft  ere 
try  BreToort  House 


Tr     •         ,   ^  ,-     ,, 

United  States  oj  America 


$2  THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE. 

Document  No.  38. 
Letter  contained  in  the  envelope  abcrce. 

CHF.LSWORTH,  March  30,  1879. 

MY  DEAR  BOY: — In  the  sudden  blow  which  has 
come  upon  us  all  I  cannot  find  words  to  write. 
You  do  not  know  what  you  have  done.  Your  uncle 
William,  after  whom  you  were  named,  died  in  Amer 
ica.  He  left  but  one  child,  a  daughter,  the  only 
grandchild  of  my  father  except  you.  And  this 
daughter  is  the  Miss  Nina  Saville  with  whom  you 
have  formed  so  unhappy  a  connection.  She  is  your 
own  cousin.  She  is  a  Beauvoir.  She  is  of  our 
blood,  as  good  as  any  in  England. 

My  feelings  are  overpowering.  I  am  choked  by 
the  suddenness  of  this  great  grief.  I  cannot  write 
to  you  as  I  would.  But  I  can  say  this :  Do  not  let 
me  see  you  or  hear  from  you  until  this  stain  be  taken 

from  our  name. 

OLIVER  BEAUVOIR. 

Document  No.  39. 

Cable  dispatcJi  from  J  \  'illiaui  Beam  'oir,  / 1  'indsor  Hotel, 
New  York,  to  Sir  Oliver  Beauvoir,  Bart.,  C/iels- 
wortJi,  Suffolk,  England. 

NKW  YOKK,  May  i,  1879 
Have  posted  you  Herald. 

WILLIAM   BKAUVOIR. 


THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE.  83 

Document  No.  40. 

Advertisement,  under  the  head  of  "  Marriages"  from 
the  New  York  "  Herald"  April  3O/7/,  1879. 

BEAUVOIR — BEAUVOIR. — On  Wednesday,  Jan.  ist, 
1879,  at  Steal  Valley,  California,  by  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Twells,  William  Beauvoir,  only  son  of  Sir  Oliver 
Beauvoir,  of  Chelsworth,  Suffolk,  England,  to  Nina, 
only  child  of  the  late  William  Beauvoir,  of  New  Cen- 
treville,  Cal. 

Document  No.  41. 

Extract  from  the  New  York  "  Herald"  of  May  2Qth, 

1879. 

Among  the  passengers  on  the  outgoing  Cunard 
steamer  Gallia,  which  left  New  York  on  Wednes 
day,  was  the  Honorable  William  Beauvoir,  only  son 
of  Sir  Oliver  Beauvoir,  Bart.,  of  England.  Mr. 
Beauvoir  has  been  passing  his  honeymoon  in  this 
city,  and,  with  his  charming  bride,  a  famous  Cali 
fornia  belle,  has  been  the  recipient  of  many  cordial 
courtesies  from  members  of  our  best  society.  Mr. 
William  Beauvoir  is  a  young  man  of  great  promise 
and  brilliant  attainments,  and  is  a  highly  desirable 
addition  to  the  large  and  constantly  increasing  num 
ber  of  aristocratic  Britons  who  seek  for  wives  among 


84  THE  DOCUMENTS  IN  THE  CASE. 

the  lovely  daughters  of  Columbia.  We  understand 
that  the  bridal  pair  will  take  up  their  residence  with 
the  groom's  father,  at  his  stately  country-seat,  Chels- 
worth  Manor,  Suffolk. 


SEVEN    CONVERSATIONS 

OF 

DEAR  JONES  AND  BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER, 

(In  Collaboration  with  H,  C.  Bunner^) 


SEVEN   CONVERSATIONS 

OF 

DEAR  JONES  AND  BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER. 

I. 

THE   FIRST   CONVERSATION. 

TUESDAY,  February  14,  1882. 

The  band  was  invisible,  but,  unfortunately,  not 
inaudible.  It  was  in  the  butler's  pantry,  playing 
Waldteufel's  latest  waltz,  "  Siissen  Veilchen."  The 
English  butler,  who  resented  the  intrusion  of  the 
German  leader,  was  introducing  an  obbligato  unfore 
seen  by  the  composer.  This  was  the  second  of  Mrs. 
Martin's  charming  Tuesdays  in  February.  Mrs. 
Martin  herself,  fondly  and  familiarly  known  as  the 
"  Duchess  of  Washington  Square,"  stopped  a  young 
man  as  he  was  making  a  desperate  rush  for  his  over 
coat,  then  reposing  under  three  strata  of  late  comers' 
outer  garments  in  the  second  floor  back,  and  said  to 
him : 


88  SEVEN  CONVERSATIONS  OF 

"  O  Dear  Jones  "—the  Duchess  always  called  him 
Dear  Jones — "  I  want  to  introduce  you  to  Baby  Van 
Rensselaer — Phyllis  Van  Rensselacr,  you  know  — 
they  always  called  her  Baby  Van  Rensselaer,  though 
I'm  sure  I  don't  know  why — Phyllis  is  such  a  lovely 
name — don't  you  think  so? — and  your  grandfathers 
were  such  friends."  [Dear  Jones  executed  an  ex 
post  facto  condemnation  upon  his  ancestor  and  hers.] 
"You  know  Major  Van  Rensselaer  was  your  grand 
father's  partner  until  that  unfortunate  affair  of  the 
embezzlement — O  Baby  dear — there  you  are,  are 
you?  I  was  wondering  where  you  were  all  this 
time.  This  is  Mr.  Jones,  dear,  one  of  your  grand 
father's  most  intimate  friends.  Oh,  I  don't  mean 
that,  of  course — you  know  what  I  mean  -and  I  do 
so  want  you  two  to  know  each  other." 

DEAR  JONES :  What  in  the  name  of  the  prophet 
does  the  Duchess  mean  by  introducing  me  to  More 
Girls? 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER  :  I  do  wish  the  Duchess 
wouldn't  insist  on  tiring  me  out  with  slim  young 
men ;  I  never  can  tell  one  from  the  other. 

These  remarks  were  not  uttered.  They  remained  in 
the  privacy  of  the  inner  consciousness.  What 
they  really  said  was: 


DEAR  JONES  AND  BABY  VAN  RENSSELAhK.     89 

DEAR  JONES  \inarticutately\\  Miss  Van  Rens- 
selaer. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER  \inattentively\\  Yes,  it 
is  rather  warm.  .  .  . 

And  they  drifted  apart  in  the  crowd. 


SK  VEN  CON  VEKSA  'J'JOMS  OF 


II. 
THE   SECOND   CONVERSATION. 

THURSDAY,  April  13,  1882. 

Of  course,  Dear  Jones  was  the  last  to  arrive  of 
the  favored  children  of  the  world  who  had  been 
invited  to  dine  at  Judge  Gillespie's  "  to  meet  the 
Lord  Bishop  of  Barset,"  just  imported  from  Eng 
land  per  steamer  Servia.  In  the  hall,  the  butler, 
whose  appearance  "was  even  more  dignified  and 
clerical  than  the  Bishop's,  handed  Dear  Jones  an  un 
sealed  communication. 

DEAR  JONES  {examining  the  contents] :  Who  in 
Heligoland  is  Miss  Van  Rensselaer? 

As  Dear  Jones  entered,  Mrs.  Sutton — the  Judge's 
daughter,  you  know — married  Charley  Sutton,  who 
came  from  San  Francisco — Mrs.  Sutton  gave  a  little 
sigh  of  relief,  nodded  to  the  butler,  and  said  in  per 
functory  answer  to  the  apologies  Dear  Jones  had 
not  made:  "Oh,  no;  you're  not  a  bit  late — we 
haven't  been  waiting  for  you  at  all— the  Bishop  has 
only  just  come  " — (confidentially  in  his  ear)  "  I  Vc 
given  you  a  charming  girl."  [Dear  Jones  shuddered  : 
he  knew  what  that  generally  meant.]  "  You  know 
Baby  Van  Rensselaer?  Of  course — there  she  is — 


DEAR  JONES  AND  BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER.      91 

now,  go — and  do  be  bright  and  clever."  And  after 
thus  handicapping  an  inoffensive  young  man,  she 
took  the  Bishop's  arm  in  the  middle  of  his  ante 
prandial  anecdote. 

DEAR  JONES  \_marching  to  his  fate}:  It's  the 
Duchess's  girl  again,  by  Jove!  It's  lucky  Uncle 
Larry  is  going  to  take  me  off  at  ten  sharp. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  Why,  it's  that  Mr. 
Jones! 

These  remarks  were  not  uttered.  They  remained 
in  the  privacy  of  the  inner  consciousness.  What 
they  really  said  was: 

DEAR  ]o$ES\witkaiidacious  hypocrisy]:  Of  course. 
you  don't  remember  me,  Miss  Van  Rensselaer.  .  .  . 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER  {trumping  his  card  un- 
abashetf\ :  I  really  don't  quite.  .  .  . 

DEAR  JONES  [offering  fas  arm]:  Er  .  .  .  don't  you 
remember  the  Duch — Mrs.  Martin's — that  hideously 
rainy  afternoon,  just  before  Lent? 

Here  there  was  a  gap  in  the  conversation  as  the 
procession  took  up  its  line  of  march,  and  moved 
through  a  narrow  passage  into  the  dining-room. 

DEAR  JONES  {making  a  brave  dash  at  the  "  brigJit 
and  clever"]:  Well,  in  my  house,  the  door  into  the 
dining-room  shall  be  eighteen  feet  wide. 


92  SET  EX  COXrERSAT/OA'S  OF 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER  [literal,  stern,  and  cold  \\ 
Are  you  building  a  house,  Mr.  Jones? 

DEAR  JONES  [calmly] :  I  am  at  present,  Miss  Van 
Rensselaer,  building — let  me  see — four — five — seven 
houses. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER  [coldly  and  suspecting  flip 
pancy^  :  Ah,  indeed — are  you  a  billionaire? 

DEAR  JONES:  No;  I'm  an  architect. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER  [in  confusion']:  Oh,  I'm 
sure  I  beg  your  pardon — 

DEAR  JONES:  You  needn't.  I  shouldn't  beat  all 
ashamed  to  be  a  billionaire. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  Oh,  of  course  not— I 
didn't  mean  that — 

DEAR  JONES  [unguardedly] :  Well,  if  it  comes  to 
that,  I'm  not  ashamed  of  my  architecture  either. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER  [calmly]-.  Indeed?  I 
have  never  seen  any  of  it. 

DEAR  JONES:  You  sit  here,  I  think.  This  is  your 
card  with  the  little  lady  in  the  powdered  wig — a 
cherubic  Madame  de  Stael. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER  :  And  this  is  yours  with 
a  Cupid  in  a  basket — a  nineteenth-century  Moses. 

DEAR  JONES  [taking  his  seat  beside  her]:  Talking 
about  dinner  cards — and  billionaires,  you  heard  of 
that  dinner  old  Greasers  gave  to  fifty-two  of  his 


DEAR  JONES  AND  BAB  Y  VAN  RENSSELAER.     93 

friends  of  the  new  dispensation.  I  believe  there  u-as 
one  poor  fellow  there  whose  wife  had  only  half  a  deck 
of  diamonds.  He  assembled  his  hordes  in  the  pic 
ture-gallery,  as  the  dining-room  wasn't  large  enough 
—you  see,  I  didn't  build  his  house.  And  to  carry 
out  the  novelty  of  the  thing,  his  dinner  cards 
were 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  Playing-cards? 

DEAR  JONES:  Just  so— but  they  were  painted, 
"  hand-painted  "  on  satin. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER  :  And  what  did  he  take 
for  himself — the  king  of  diamonds? 

DEAR  JONES:  For  the  only  time  in  his  life  he  for 
got  himself — and  he  had  to  put  up  with  the  Joker. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  What  sort  of  people 
were  there? 

DEAR  JONES:  Very  good  sort,  indeed.  There 
was  a  M.  Meissonier  and  a  M.  Gerome  and  a  M. 
Corot — besides  the  man  who  sold  them  to  him. 

Everybody  knows  how  a  conversation  runs  on  at 
dinaer,  when  it  does  run  on.  On  this  occasion  it 
ran  on  for  seventy  minutes  and  six  courses.  Dear 
Jones  and  Baby  Van  Rensselaer  discussed  the  usual 
topics  and  the  usual  bill  of  fare.  Then,  as  the  butler 
served  the  bombe  glacce  a  la  Dcinidoff — 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:   Oh,  I'm  so  glad  you 


94  SEVEX  CONl'ERSATl&NS  OF 

liked  her.  We  were  at  school  together,  you  know, 
and  she  was  with  us  when  we  went  up  the  Saguenay 
last  August. 

DEAR  JONES:  Why,  /went  up  the  Saguenay  last 
August. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER  [earnestly]:  And  we 
didn't  meet?  How  miserably  absurd! 

DEAR  JONES :  I'll  tell  you  whom  I  did  meet — your 
father's  partner,  Mr.  Hitchcock.  He  had  his  daugh 
ter  with  him,  too — a  very  bright  girl.  You  know 
her,  of  course. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER  [coldly]:  I  have  heard 
she  is  quite  clever.  [A  paused]  The  Hitchcocks — 
I  believe — go  more  in  the — New  England  set.  I 
have  met  her  brother,  though — Mr.  Mather  Hitch 
cock.  .  .  . 

DEAR  JONES:  Mat  Hitchcock;  that  little  cad? 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  Is  he  a  little  cad?  I 
thought  he  was  rather — bright. 

After  this,  conversation  was  desultory;  and  soon 
the  male  guests  were  left  to  their  untrammelled 
selves,  tobacco,  and  the  Bishop.  At  eleven  minutes 
past  ten,  in  the  vestibule  of  Judge  Gillespie's  house, 
a  young  man  and  a  man  not  so  young  were  button 
ing  their  overcoats  and  lighting  their  cigarettes.  In 


DEAR  JONES  AND  BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER.    95 

the  parlor  behind  them  a  soft  contralto  voice  was 
lingering  on  the  rich,  deep  notes  of  "  Der  Asra,"  the 
sweetest  song  of  Jewish  inspiration,  the  song  of 
Heine  and  of  Rubinstein.  They  paused  a  moment 
as  the  voice  died  away  in 

"  Und  mein  Stamm  sind  jene  Asra, 
Welche  sterben  wenn  sie  lieben  ! " 

The  man  not  so  young  said :  "  Well,  come  along. 
What  are  you  waiting  for?  " 

DEAR  JONES:  What  the  devil  are  you  in  such  a 
hurry  for,  Uncle  Larry  ?  It  looked  abominably 
rude  to  leave  those  people  in  that  way! 


g6  SEITEAT  CON  VERSA  TIONS  OF 

III. 
THE   THIRD   CONVERSATION. 

TUESDAY,  May  30,  1882. 

As  the  first  band  of  the  Decoration  Day  proces 
sion  struck  up  "  Marching  through  Georgia  "  and 
marched  past  Uncle  Larry's  house,  a  cheerfully  ex 
pectant  party  filed  out  of  the  parlor  windows  upon 
the  broad  stone  balcony,  draped  with  the  flag  that 
had  floated  over  the  building  for  the  four  long 
years  the  day  commemorated.  Uncle  Larry  had 
secured  the  Duchess  to  matronize  the  annual  gather 
ing  of  young  friends,  the  final  friendly  meeting  be 
fore  the  flight  out  of  town ;  and  many  of  those  who 
accepted  him  as  the  universal  uncle  had  accepted 
also  this  invitation.  Dear  Jones  and  Baby  Van 
Rensselaer  were  seated  in  the  corner  of  the  balcony 
that  caught  the  southern  sun,  Baby  Van  Rensselaer 
in  Uncle  Larry's  own  study  chair,  while  Dear  Jones 
was  comfortably  and  gracefully  perched  on  the 
broad  brown-stone  railing  of  the  balcony. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAEK  :  Now,  doesn't  that  music 
make  your  heart  leap? 

DEAR  JONES:  M'— yes. 

BAHY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  You  know  I  haven't  the 


DEAR  JONES,  AND  BABY  I'AN  RENSSELAER.      97 

least  bit  of  sympathy  with  that  affected  talk  about 
not  being  moved  by  these  things,  and  thinking  it 
vulgar  and  all  that.  I'm  proud  to  say  I  love  my 
country,  and  I  do  love  to  see  my  country's  soldiers. 
Don't  you? 

DEAR  JONES:  M' — yes. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  Of  course,  I  can't  really 
remember  anything  about  the  war,  but  I  try  to 
pretend  to  myself  that  I  do  remember  when  I  was 
held  up  at  the  window  to  see  the  troops  marching 
back  from  the  grand  review  at  Washington.  {Rather 
more  softly.}  Mamma  told  me  about  it  often  before 
she  died.  And  "  Marching  through  Georgia  "  always 
makes  the  tears  come  to  my  eyes;  don't  it  yours? 

DEAR  JONES:  M' — yes. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  "Yes!"  Howqueerly 
you  say  that ! 

DEAR  JONES  \_grimly\\  I'm  rather  more  inclined 
to  cry  when  the  band  makes 

"  Stream  and  forest,  hill  and  strand, 
Reverberate  with  '  Dixie.'  " 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER  {coldly']-.  I'm  afraid,  Mr. 
Jones,  I  do  not  understand  you.  And  you  appear 
to  have  a  very  peculiar  feeling  about  these  things. 

DEAR  JONES  [rather  absently]:  Well,  yes,  it  is 
rather  a  matter  of  feeling  with  me.  Weak,  I  sup- 


98  SK I  '/•:  .V  CO AT I  'EffSA  TICKS  Of-' 

pose  —but  the  fact  is,  Miss  Van  Rcnssclacr,  it  just 
breaks  me  up  to  see  all  this.  You  know,  the  war 
hit  me  pretty  hard.  I  lost  my  brother  in  hospital 
after  Seven  Pines — -and  then  I  lost  my  father,  the 
best  friend  I  ever  had,  at  Gettysburg,  on  the  hill, 
you  know,  when  he  was  leading  his  regiment,  and 
his  men  couldn't  make  him  stay  back.  So,  you  see 
I  wouldn't  have  come  here  at  all  to-day  if — if— 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  O  Mr.  Jones,  I'm  so 
sorry. 

DEAR  JONES  [surprised}:  Sorry?     Why? 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  1  didn't  quite  under 
stand  you — but  I  do  now.  Why,  you're  taking  off 
your  hat.  What  is  it?  Oh,  the  battle-flags! 

DEAR  JONES:  My  father's  regiment. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER  [to  herself]:  I  wonder  if 
that  is  the  regiment  I  saw  coming  back  from  Wash 
ington? 


DEAR  JONES  AND  BABY   I' AN  RENSSELAER.      99 

IV. 

THE   FOURTH   CONVERSATION. 

TUESDAY,  August  22,  1882. 

The  train  rattled  hotly  along  on  its  sultry  journey 
from  one  end  of  Long  Island  to  the  other,  a  journey 
the  half  of  which  it  had  nearly  accomplished  with 
much  fuss  and  fret.  Leaving  his  impediments  of 
travel  in  the  smoker,  Dear  Jones  entered  the  for 
ward  end  of  the  parlor  car  in  search  of  an  uncon- 
taminated  glass  of  water.  As  he  set  down  the  glass 
he  glanced  along  the  car,  and  his  manner  changed 
at  once.  He  opened  the  door  for  an  instant  and 
threw  on  the  down  track  his  half-smoked  cigarette; 
and  then,  smiling  pleasantly,  he  walked  firmly 
down  the  car,  past  a  rustic  bridal  couple,  and 
took  a  vacant  seat  just  in  front  of  Baby  Van  Rens- 
selaer. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  Why,  Mr.  Jones! 

DEAR  JONES:  Why,  Miss  Van  Rensselaer! 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  Who  would  have 
thought  of  seeing  you  here  in  this  hot  weather? 

DEAR  JONES  :  Can  I  have  this  seat  or  is  it  that  I 
mank  at  the  convenances — as  the  French  say? 


T  oo  .9/r  i '/-:.v  coy  i  '/-:KSA  rfo.vs  or 

BABY  VAN  RKXSSELAER:  It's  Uncle  Larry's  chair 
—he's  gone  back  to  talk  to  one  of  his  vestrymen  — 
he's  taking  me  to  Shelter  Island. 

DEAR  JONES:  Shelter  Island?  How  long  arc 
you  going  to  stay  there? 

BAHY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  And  where  are  you 
going? 

DEAR  JONES:  I'm  going  to  Sag  Harbor  to  bull  1 
a  house  for  one  of  my  billionaires. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  Sag  Harbor?  What 
an  extraordinary  place  for  a  house. 

DEAR  JONES:  O\  that's  nothing.  Last  year  I 
had  to  build  a  house  up  in  Chemung  County. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  Chemung? 

DEAR  JONES  {spelling  it} :  C-h-e-m-u-n-g' — accent 
on  the  mung.  You  probably  call  it  Chee"mung,  but 
it  is  really  Sh'mung. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  Where  is  it?  and  how 
do  you  get  there? 

DEAR  JONES:  By  the  Chemung  dc  fcr,  of  course 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  O  Mr.  Jones. 

DEAR  JONES :    You  see,  my  mind  is  relaxed  by 
the  effort  to  build  a  house  on  the  model  of  the  one 
occupied  by  the  old  woman  who  lived  in  a  shoe 
and  that  variety  of  early    English   architecture   is 
very  wearing  on  the  taste.     What  :;ort  of  a  house  is 


DEAR  JONES  AND  BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER.   loi 

it  you  are  going  to  at  Shelter  Island?  And  how 
long  are  you  going  to  stay  there? 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  Oh,  it's  a  stupid,  old- 
fashioned  place.  [Pause.]  Do  you  think  that  bride 
is  pretty?  I  have  been  watching  them  ever  since  we 
left  New  York.  They  have  been  to  town  on  their 
wedding-trip. 

DEAR  JONES:  She  is  ratherish  pretty.  And  he's 
a  shrewd  fellow  and  likely  to  get  on.  I  shouldn't 
wonder  if  he  was  the  chief  wire-puller  of  his  "  dees- 
trick." 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  A  village  Hampden? 

DEAR  JONES:  Some  day  he'll  withstand  the  little 
tyrant  of  the  fields  and  lead  a  revolt  against  the 
garden-sass  monopoly,  and  so  sail  into  the  legisla 
ture.  I  fear  the  bride  is  destined  to  ruin  her  diges 
tion  in  an  Albany  boarding-house,  while  the  groom 
gives  his  days  and  nights  to  affairs  of  state. 

Here  the  train  slackened  its  speed  as  it  approached 
a  small,  station  from  which  shrill  note«s  of  music 
arose. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  Look,  the  bride  is  going 
to  leave  us. 

DEAR  JONES:  He  lives  here,  and  the  local  fife 
and  drum  corps  have  come  to  welcome  him  home. 


1 02  SE  VEN  CON  VERSA  TIONS  OF 

Dinna  ye  hear  that  strident  "Hail  to  the  Chief" 
they  have  just  executed? 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  How  proudly  she  looks 
up  at  him!  I  think  the  band  ought  to  play  some 
thing  for  her — but  they  are  men,  and  they'll  never 
think  of  it. 

DEAR  JONES:  You  cannot  expect  much  tact  from 
two  fifes  and  a  bass  drum,  but  unless  my  ears  de 
ceive  me  they  have  greeted  the  bride  with  a  well- 
meant  attempt  at  "  Home,  Sweet  Home." 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER: 

"  And  each  responsive  soul  has  heard 

That  plaintive  note's  appealing. 
So  deeply  '  Home.  Sweet  Home  '  has  stirred 
The  hidden  founts  of  feeling." 

DEAR  JONES  {surprised'}-.  Why— how  did  you 
know  that  poem? 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER  :  Oh,  I  heard  somebody 
quote  it  last  Decoration  Day — I  don't  know  who — 
it  struck  me  as  very  pretty  and  I  looked  it  up. 

DEAR  JONES  [pleased] :  Oh,  I  remember,  ft  has 
always  been  a  favorite  of  mine. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER  [coldly]:  Indeed? 

DEAR  JONES  [as  the  train  starts  again] :  Bride  and 
groom,  fife  and  drum,  fade  away  from  sight  and  hear 
ing.  I  wonder  if  we  shall  ever  think  of  them  again? 


DEAR  JONES  AND  BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER.    103 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  I  shall,  I'm  sure.  She 
was  so  pretty.  And,  besides,  the  music  was  lively. 
I  shan't  have  anything  half  as  amusing  as  that  at 
Shelter  Island. 

DEAR  JONES:  Don't  you  like  it,  then? 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  Oh,  dear,  no!  I  shall 
be  glad  to  get  away  to  my  aunt's  place  at  Watch 
Hill.  It's  very  poky  indeed  at  Shelter  Island. 
\_Sighs ^\  And  to  think  that  I  shall  have  to  spend 
just  two  weeks  of  primness  and  propriety  there. 

DEAR  JONES:  Just  two  weeks?    Ah! 


104  SEYJ-:<V  CONVERSATIONS  OF 

V. 

THE   FIFTH   CONVERSATION. 

TUESDAY,  September  5,  1882.     (Afternoon.) 

Although  it  is  difficult  to  tell  the  length  from  the 
breadth  of  the  small  steamer  that  plies  between  Sag 
Harbor  and  New  London,  it  is  safe  to  assume  that 
it  was  the  bow  that  was  pointing  away  from  the 
Shelter  Island  dock  as  Baby  Van  Rensselaer  stepped 
out  of  the  cabin  and  Dear  Jones  walked  up  to  her, 
lifting  his  hat  with  an  expression  of  surprise  on  his 
face  that  might  have  been  better,  considering  that 
he  had  rehearsed  it  a  number  of  times  since  he  left 
Sag  Harbor. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  Why,  Mr.  Jones! 

DEAR  JONES  ^forgetting  Jiis  lines,  and  improvis 
ing}:  How — how — odd  we  should  meet  again  just 
here.  Funny,  isn't  it  ? 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:    It  is  exceedingly  hu 
morous. 

DEAR  JONES:  I  did  not  tell  you,  did  I — when  I 
saw  you  on  the  train-,  you  know — that  I  had  to  go 
to  New  London,  after  I'd  finished  my  work  at  Sag 
Harbor? 

BAI-.Y    VAN    RENSSELAER    {uncompromisingly}:    \ 


DEAR  JONES  AND  BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER.   105 

don't  think  you  said  anything  about  New  London 
at  all. 

DEAR  JONES:  I  probably  said  the  Pequot  House. 
It's  the  same  thing,  you  know.  I  have  to  go  to  New 
London  to  inspect  the  Race  Rock  light-house — 
you've  heard  of  the  famous  light-house  at  Race 
Rock,  of  course. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER  :  I  don't  think  its  fame 
has  reached  me. 

DEAR  JONES:  It's  a  very  curious  structure,  in 
deed.  And,  the  fact  is,  one  of  my — my  billionaires — 
wants  a  light  house.  He  has  an  extraordinary  notion 
of  building  a  light-house  near  his  place  on  the  sea 
shore — alight-house  of  his  own.  Odd  idea,  isn't  it.J 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  It  is  a  very  odd  pro 
ceeding  altogether,  I  should  say. 

DEAR  JONES:  I  suppose  you  mean  that  /  am  a 
very  odd  proceeding.  Well,  I  will  confess,  and 
throw  myself  on  your  mercy.  I  did  hope  to  meet 
you — and  the  Duch — Mrs.  Martin.  After  two  weeks 
of  the  society  of  billionaires,  I  think  I'm  excusable. 
.  .  .  [A  painful  pause.}  And  I  had  to  go  to  Race 
Rock,  so  I  got  off  a  day  earlier  than  I  had  meant 
to,  by  cutting  one  of  the  turrets  out  of  my  original 
plan — he  didn't  mind— there  are  eleven  left— and 
and — will  you  forgive  me? 


106  SEVEX  CO.VTEKSATIOXS  OF 

BABY  VAN  RKNSSET.AER:  Really,  I  have  nothing 
to  forgive,  Mr.  Jones.  I've  no  doubt  my  aunt  will 
be  very  glad  to  see  you. 

DEAR  JONES:  Ah— how  is  Mrs.  Martin? 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  She  is  in  the  cabin. 
She  is  quite  well  at  present ;  but  she  is  always  very 
nervous  about  sea-sickness,  and  she  prefers  to  lie 
down.  I  must  go  in  and  sit  with  her. 

DEAR  JONES  [quickly]  :  Indeed— I  didn't  know 
Mrs.  Martin  suffered  from  sea-sickness.  She's 
crossed  the  ocean  so  many  times,  you  know.  How 
many  is  it  ? 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  Six,  I  think. 

DEAR  JONES:  No;  eight,  isn't  it?  I'm  almost 
sure  it's  eight. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  Very  possibly.  But 
she  is  a  great  sufferer.  I  must  go  and  see  how  she  is. 

DEAR  JONES:  Yes,  we'll  go.  I  want  to  see  Mrs. 
Martin.  One  of  the  disadvantages  of  the  summer 
season  is  that  one  can't  see  the  Duchess  at  regular 
intervals  to  exchange  gossip. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER  :  Well,  if  you  have  any 
confidential  gossip  for  the  Duchess,  I  will  wait  here 
until  you  come  out.  I  want  to  get  all  the  fresh  air 
possible,  if  I  have  to  sit  in  the  cabin  for  the  rest  of 
the  trip. 


DEAR  JONES  AND  BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER.    107 

DEAR  JONES  [asserting-  himself^'.  Very  well.  I 
have  the  contents  of  four  letters  from  Newport  to 
pour  into  the  Duchess's  ear.  You  know  I  was  stay 
ing  at  the  Hitchcocks'  for  a  fortnight  before  I  we.nt 
to  Sag  Harbor. 

He  went  into  the  stuffy  little  cabin,  where  the 
Duchess  was  lying  on  a  bench,  in  a  wilderness  of 
shawls.  Baby  Van  Rensselaer  waited  a  good  half- 
hour,  but  heard  no  sound  of  returning  footsteps  from 
that  gloomy  cave.  Finally  she  went  in  to  investi 
gate,  and  was  told  by  the  Duchess  that  "  Dear 
Jones  has  gone  after,  or  whatever  you  call  it,  to 
smoke  a  cigar."  Baby  Van  Rensselaer  made  up 
her  mind  that  under  those  circumstances  she  would 
go  forward  and  read  her  book.  She  also  made  up 
her  mind  that  Mr.  Jones  was  extremely  rude.  His 
rudeness,  she  found,  as  she  sat  reading  at  the  bow 
of  the  boat,  really  spoiled  her  book.  She  knew  that 
she  ought  not  to  let  such  little  things  annoy  her ; 
but,  then,  it  was  a  very  stupid  chapter,  and  the  fresh 
sea  breeze  blew  the  pages  back  and  forwards,  and 
her  veil  would  not  stay  over  her  hair,  and  she  always 
had  hated  travelling,  and  it  was  so  disagreeable  to 
have  people  behave  in  that  way — especially  people 
— well,  any  people.  Just  here  she  turned  her  head, 


1 08  SE I  'RN  CO  A'  VFRSA  TIO.YS  OF 

and  saw  Dear  Jones  advancing  from  the  cabin  with 
a  bright  and  smiling  face. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER  [about  to  rise} :  My  aunt 
wants  me,  I  suppose. 

DEAR  JONES :  Not  at  all — not  in  the  least — nt 
present.  I  just  came  through  the  cabin — on  tiptoe 
— and  she  was  fast  asleep.  In  fact,  not  to  speak  it 
profanely,  she  was— she  was  audible. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  Oh! 

DEAR  JONES:  I'm  glad  to  see  you're  getting  the 
benefit  of  the  fresh  air. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  I  was  afraid  of  waking 
my  aunt  with  the  rustling  of  the  leaves  of  my  book, 
so  I  came  out  here. 

DEAR  JONES:  I'm  glad  you  did.  It  would  be  a 
shame  for  you  to  have  to  sit  in  that  close  cabin. 
That's  the  reason  I  didn't  come  back  to  you  when 
I  left  Mrs.  Martin.  I  played  a  pious  fraud  on  you 
for  the  benefit  of  your  health. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER :  You  were  very  consid 
erate. 

DEAR  JONES  [enthusiastically] :  Oh,  not  at  all. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER  [calmly]:  And  if  you'll 
excuse  me,  I'll  finish  my  book.  I  can't  read  in  the 
cabin. 

Baby  Van    Rensselaer   resumed   her  reading  and 


DEAR  JONES  AXD  RARY   VAN  RENSSELAER.    109 

found  the  book  improved  a  little.  After  a  while 
she  looked  up  and  saw  Dear  Jones  sitting  on  the 
rail,  meekly  twirling  his  thumbs. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER  {after  an  effort  at  silence'}  : 
Don't  be  so  ridiculously  absurd.  What  are  you 
doing  there? 

DEAR  JONES:  I'm  waiting  to  be  spoken  to. 

Baby  Van  Rcnsselaer  smiled.  The  boat  had  just 
swung  out  of  the  jaws  of  the  bay.  Overhead  was 
the  full  glory  of  a  sky  which  made  one  believe  that 
there  never  was  such  a  thing  as  a  cloud.  And  they 
sped  along  over  the  sea  of  water  in  a  sea  of  light. 
Just  then  there  came  from  the  depths  under  the 
cabin  the  rise  and  fall  of  a  measured,  mocking 
melody,  high  and  clear  as  the  notes  of  a  lark. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  Why,  that  must  be  a 
bird  whistling — only  birds  don't  whistle  "Amaryllis." 

DEAR  JONES:  Tisn't  a  bird — it's  an  engineer. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER  :  An  engineer? 

DEAR  JONES:  A  grimy  engineer.  Quite  a  pa 
thetic  story,  too.  Some  of  the  Sag  Harbor  people 
took  him  up  as  a  boy.  He  had  a  wonderful  ear  and 
an  extraordinary  tenor  voice.  They  were  going  to 
make  a  Mario  of  him.  They  paid  for  his  education 
in  New  York,  and  then  sent  him  over  to  Paris  to 
the  Conservatory  to  be  finished  off.  And  he  hadn't 


110  S£  VEX  CO  A'  I  'EKSA  7  '/OA'S  OF 

been  there  six  weeks  before  he  caught  the  regular 
Paris  pleurisy — it's  an  article  de  Paris,  you  know, 
and  lost  his  voice  utterly  and  hopelessly. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAEK:  Oh! 

DKAR  JONES:  And  so  he  had  to  come  back  and 
engineer  for  his  living. 

BAIJY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  How  very  sad.  Now 
I  can  scarcely  bear  to  hear  him  whistle. 

DEAR  JONES  [to  himself}:  Well,  I  didn't  mean  to 
produce  that  effect.  [To  her.']  Oh,  he  doesn't 
mind  it  a  bit.  Hear  him  now. 

The  engineer  was  executing  a  series  of  brilliant  vari 
ations  on  the  "Air  du  Roi  Louis  XIII.,"  melting 
by  ingenious  gradations  into  the  "  Babies  on  our 
Block." 

DEAR  JONES  [hastily] :  Race  Rock  lies  over  that 
way.  You  can't  see  it  yet — but  you  will  after  a 
tvhile. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  Oh,  then,  there  is  a 
Race  Rock  ? 

DEAR  JONES:  Why,  certainly.  .  .  . 

With  this  starter,  it  may  readily  be  understood 
that  a  man  of  Dear  Jones's  fecundity  of  intellect 
and  fine  imaginative  powers  was  able  to  fill  the 
greater  part  of  the  afternoon  with  fluent  conversa- 


DEAR  JONES  AND  BABY  VAN  RENSSELAEK.    in 

tion.  Two  or  three  times  Baby  Van  Rensselaer 
made  futile  attempts  to  go  into  the  cabin  to  see 
ho\v  the  Duchess  was  sleeping ;  but  as  many  times 
she  forgot  her  errand.  There  was  a  fair  breeze 
blowing  from  the  northeast,  but  the  sea  was  smooth, 
and  the  little  boat  scarcely  rocked  on  the  long,  low 
waves.  It  was  getting  toward  four  o'clock  when 
there  was  a  sudden  stoppage  of  the  engineer's  whis 
tling  and  of  the  machinery  of  the  boat.  Baby  Van 
Rensselaer  sent  Dear  Jones  back  to  inquire  into  the 
cause,  for  they  were  alone  on  the  broad  sea,  with 
only  a  tantalizing  glimpse  of  New  London  harbor 
stretching  out  welcoming  arms  of  green,  with  the 
Groton  monument  stuck  like  a  huge  clothes-pin  on 
the  left  arm.  Dear  Jones  came  back,  trying  hard  to 
look  decently  perturbed  and  gloomy,  but  with  a 
barbarian  joy  lighting  up  his  bronzed  features. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER  :  What  is  it  ? 

DEAR  JONES  :  The  machinery  is  on  a  dead  centre. 
And  the  whistling  engineer  says  that  he'll  have  to 
wait  until  he  can  get  into  port  and  hitch  a  horse  to 
the  crank  to  start  her  off  again. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER  :  But  how  are  we  to  get 
into  port  ? 

DEAR  JONES:    The   whistling    engineer    further 
says  that  we  are  now  drifting  toward  Watch  Hill. 


H2  SEl'fiA'  CONVERSATIONS  OF 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  That's  just  where  we 
want  to  go. 

DEAR  JONES:  Yes.  [An  unholy  toot  from  the 
steam  whist lel\  And  there  he  is  signalling  that 
yacht  to  take  us  off! 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER  :  I  must  go  to  my  aunt 
now. 

DEAR  JONES:  Why — there's  no  hurry. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  No,  but  she'll  be  so 
frightened — she'll  think  it's  going  to  blow  up  or 
something. 

Baby  Van  Rensselaer  disappeared  in  the  depths 
of  the  cabin.  Dear  Jones  disconsolately  walked  the 
deck  in  solitary  silence  for  five  minutes.  When 
Baby  Van  Rensselaer  reappeared,  his  spirits  rose. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  My  aunt  is  afraid  you 
may  have  difficulty  in  reaching  New  London  to 
night.  She  wants  me  to  ask  you  if  you  won't  stay 
over-night  at  her  place  at  Watch  Hill? 

DEAR  JONES  :  Won't  I  ?  Well,  I  will — have  much 
pleasure  in  accepting  your  aunt's  invitation. 


DEAR  JONES  AND  BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER.   113 


VI. 

THE   SIXTH   CONVERSATION. 

TUESDAY,  September  5,  1882.     (Evening.) 

A  row  of  Japanese  lanterns  shed  a  Cathayan  light 
along  the  little  path  leading  from  the  Duchess's 
house  on  a  rocky  promontory  to  the  little  beach 
which  nestled  under  its  shoulder.  The  moon  softly 
and  judiciously  lit  up  the  baby  breakers  which  in 
Long  Island  Sound  imitate  the  surf  of  the  outer 
sea.  It  threw  eerie  shadows  behind  the  bath-houses, 
and  fell  with  gentle  radiance  upon  two  dripping  but 
shapely  figures  emerging  from  the  water,  where  the 
other  bathers  were  unwisely  lingering. 

DEAR  JONES:  I  think  this  is  simply  delightful.  I 
really  never  got  the  perfect  enjoyment  of  an  even 
ing  swim  before. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER :  I  am  glad  you  enjoyed 
it. 

DEAR  JONES :  There  is  something  so  charming  in 
this  aristocratic  seclusion,  with  the  shouts  and 
laughter  of  the  vulgar  herd  just  far  enough  off  to  be 
picturesque — if  you  can  call  a  noise  picturesque. 


114  SE  VEX  CON  I  'ERSA  7  'IONS  OF 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER  [coldly]:  I  think  this 
beach  might  be  a  little  more  private — it's  shared  in 
common  by  these  three  cottages. 

DEAR  JONES:  But  they  seem  to  be  very  nice 
people  here.  And  they  all  swim  so  well,  it  quite 
put  me  on  my  mettle.  You  are  really  a  splendid 
swimmer,  do  you  know  it?  And  that  girl  I  towed 
out  to  the  buoy,  who  is  she  ? 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER  [explosively]:  Mr.  Jones, 
this  is  positively  insulting! 

DEAR  JONES:  Wh — what— wh — why?  I  don't 
understand  you. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  To  pretend  that  you 
don't  know  that  Hitchcock  woman! 

DEAR  JONES  [innocently] :  Was  that  Miss  Hitch 
cock  ?  I  didn't  recognize  her. 

BABY  VAX  RENSSELAER:  If  this  is  your  idea  of 
humor,  Mr.  Jones,  it  is  simply  offensive! 

DEAR  JONES  :  But,  upon  my  soul,  I  didn't  know 
the  girl — nor  she  me ! 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  You  didn't  know  her? 
After  you  have  been  staying  two  weeks  at  her  house 
at  Newport  ? 

DEAR  JONES  [with  something  like  dignity} :  I  was 
staying  at  her  father's  house,  Miss  Van  Rensselaer, 
and  Miss  Hitchcock  was  away  on  a  visit. 


DEAR  JONES  AND  BABY   VAN  RENSSELAER.   115 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER  :  Up  the  Saguenay,  per 
haps  ? 

DEAR  JONES:  Very  likely.  Miss  Hitchcock  may 
have  left  a  large  part  of  the  Saguenay  unexplored 
for  all  I  know.  I  was  introduced  to  her  party  only 
half  an  hour  before  we  got  off  the  boat  at  Quebec. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  Long  enough,  however, 
to  discover  that  she  was  "  bright." 

DEAR  JONES  :  Quite  long  enough,  Miss  Van  Rens- 
selaer.  One  may  find  out  a  great  deal  of  another's 
character  in  half  an  hour. 

There  was  a  pause,  which  was  filled  by  the  strains 
of  a  Virginia  reel,  coming  from  one  of  the  cot 
tages  high  up  on  the  bank,  where  an  impromptu 
dance  was  just  begun.  The  moonlight  fell  on 
Baby  Van  Rensselaer's  little  white  teeth,  set 
firmly  between  her  parted  lips.  The  pause  was 
broken. 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  If  you  propose  to  de 
scend  to  brutality  of  this  sort,  Mr.  Jones,  I  think  we 
need  prolong  neither  the  conversation — nor  the  ac 
quaintance. 

DEAR  JONES  \Jwnestly\ :  No — you  can't  mean  that 
— Miss  Van  Rensselaer — Baby — 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:    What,  sir!     Your  fa- 


1 1 6  S£  VKN  CON  VERSA  TIONS  OF 

miliarity  is — I  can't  stand  familiarity  from  you  !  [She 
clinches  her  little  hands. ~\ 

DEAR  JONES :  You  have  no  right  to  treat  me  like 
this.  If  I  am  familiar  it  is  because  I  love  you — and 
you  know  it ! 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  This  is  the  first  I  have 
heard  of  it,  sir.  I  trust  it  will  be  the  last.  Will 
you  kindly  permit  me  to  pass,  or  must  I— 

DEAR  JONES:  You  may  go  where  you  wish,  Miss 
Van  Rensselaer.  No,  come,  this  is  ridiculous  — 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  Is  it? 

DEAR  JONES:  I  mean  it  is  foolish.  Don't  let 
us 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  Don't  let  us  see  each 
other  again ! 


Jjl'.AR  JONES  AND  BAB  Y  VAN  RENSSELAER.   1 1 7 


VII. 

THE   SEVENTH   CONVERSATION. 

THURSDAY,  February  14,  1884. 

As  the  soft,  low  notes  of  the  wedding-march  from 
"  Lohengrin  "  fell  gently  from  the  organ-loft  over 
the  entrance  of  Grace  Church,  the  quartet  of  able- 
bodied  ushers  passed  up  the  centre  aisle  and  parted 
the  white  ribbons — a  silken  barrier  which  they  had 
gallantly  defended  for  an  hour  in  a  vain  effort  to 
keep  the  common  herd  of  acquaintance  separate 
from  the  chosen  many  of  the  family.  Behind  them 
came  two  pretty  little  girls,  strewing  the  aisle  with 
white  flowers  from  their  aprons.  The  four  brides 
maids,  two  abreast,  passed  up  the  aisle  after  the 
little  girls,  proud  in  their  reflected  glory.  Then 
came  the  bride,  leaning  on  Judge  Gillespie's  arm, 
and  radiant  with  youth  and  beauty  and  happiness. 
As  the  procession  drew  near  the  chancel-rail,  the 
groom  came  from  the  vestry  and  advanced  to  meet 
her,  accompanied  by  his  best  man,  Uncle  Larry,  who 
relieved  him  of  his  hat  and  overcoat,  the  which  he 
would  dexterously  return  to  him  when  the  happy 


r  T  8  SE  VRM  'CO A'  I  'EKSA  T ION'S. 

couple  should  leave  the  church  man  and  wife.  And 
in  due  time  the  Bishop  asked,  "  Wilt  thou  have  this 
Woman  to  thy  wedded  wife  ?  " 

DEAR  JONES:  I  will. 

The  Bishop  asked  again,  "  Wilt  thou  have  this 
Man  to  thy  wedded  husband  ? ' 

BABY  VAN  RENSSELAER:  I  will. 

As  they  knelt  at  the  altar  the  sun  came  out  and  fell 
through  the  window,  and  the  stained  glass  sifted 
down  on  them  the  mingled  hues  of  hope  and  of 
faith  and  love ;  and  the  Bishop  blessed  them. 


EDGED  TOOLS, 

(In  Collaboration  with  Walter  Hcrries  Pollock?) 


EDGED  TOOLS. 

A   TALE   IN  TWO   CHAPTERS. 

CHAPTER   I. 

MONSIEUR   BLITZINI'S   FIRST    PERFORMANCE. 

THE  season  was  at  its  height  at  the  little  town  of 
Witherington,  on  the  south  coast  of  England ;  and 
the  presence  there  of  three  German  bands  and  of 
a  troupe  of  Tyrolese  zither  players  might  be  taken 
as  evidence  that  the  season  at  Witherington  was 
unusually  brilliant.  At  the  Pavilion  on  the  Pier 
— and  what  self-respecting  seaside  resort  is  now 
without  its  Pier  and  Pavilion  ? — companies  of  stroll 
ing  performers  followed  one  another  in  rapid  suc- 
cesssion,  and  with  equal  success.  A  wandering 
Variety  Show  had  lingered  for  nearly  a  week,  so 
attractive  had  been  the  latest  war-song  which  the 
Only  Macfarlane  had  bellowed  lustily  in  response 
to  three  encores  at  every  performance.  The  cele 
brated  Campbell  Comedy  Company  had  given  a 
round  of  the  Legitimate  Drama — an  elastic  term 


122  EDGED   TOOLS. 

as  Mr.  Campbell  understood  it,  for  it  allowed  Miss 
Dora  Dartmore  (Mrs.  Campbell)  to  appear  as  the 
heroines  of  the  '  Lady  of  Lyons/  '  East  Lynne,'  '  A 
Happy  Pair,'  and  'The  Little  Detective.'  After 
a  week  of  the  Legitimate  Drama  the  celebrated 
Campbell  Comedy  Company  had  departed,  and  the 
small  boys  of  Witherington  had  torn  down  the  vast 
pictorial  posters  in  which  Mr.  Campbell  was  repre 
sented  as  shaking  hands  with  David  Garrick,  while 
Shakespeare  hovered  above  them,  distributing  an 
impartial  blessing.  Now  a  new  advertisement  was 
to  be  read  by  those  who  were  willing  to  pause  be 
fore  the  hoardings  scattered  here  and  there  through 
out  the  town.  This  advertisement  was  peculiar 
enough  to  deserve  reproduction  here  in  full: 

PAVILION    HALL. 


SEANCE  PRESTIGISPIRITISTE. 

BY 

MONSIEUR   BLITZINI. 

This  world-renowned  artiste  will  visit  Witherington  and 
perform  at  the  Pavilion  Hall  at  8  P.M.  on  the  evenings  of 
Friday  and  Saturday,  August  i3th  and  I4th,  1886. 

IMPORTANT  TO  THOSE  INTERESTED  IN  THE  OCCULT! 

NO  M AH  ATM  AS  OR  ESOTERIC  BAMBOOZLING!.' 

READ   A   PLAIN   TALE. 

Monsieur  Blitzini,  far-famed  as  a  professor  of  the  so-called 
Art  of  Magic,  undertook,  in  the  exercise  of  his  calling,  to 


EDGED    TOOLS.  123 

expose  the  tricks  and  fallacies  of  the  Spiritualists  (including 
the  Davenport  Cabinet,  the  Light  and  Dark  Seance,  Material 
ization,  etc.,  etc.).  This  he  did  with  ease  ;  but  in  the  course 
of  the  experiments  suggested  by  his  researches,  he,  strange 
to  relate,  made  the  singular  and  startling  discovery  that  there 
is,  in  very  truth,  a  Sphere  of  Spirits  or  Genii  with  whom  it 
is  possible  for  the  duly  initiated  to  enter  into  converse  ;  and, 
pushing  his  investigations  still  further,  he  became  possessed 
of  the  extraordinary  and  wondrous  powers  which  he  will 
have  the  honor  of  exhibiting. 

Monsieur  Blitzini  used  to  perform  his  Marvels  of  Magic 
by  sleight  of  hand  alone,  the  aid  of  profuse  machinery  being 
in  his  opinion  contemptible.  Still  stranger  wonders  he  now 
performs  without  any  aid  save  that  of  the  invisibles  above 
alluded  to. 

COME   AND   SEE. 

At  the  end  of  the  performance  Monsieur  Blitzini  will  be 
happy  to  give  a  detailed  account  of  his  experiences  and  dis 
coveries  to  any  intelligent  member  of  the  audience  desiring 
the  same. 

MONSIEUR   BLITZINI, 

PRESTIGISPIRITISTE, 

PAVILION  HALL,  WITHERINGTON,  AUGUST  13-™  AND  I4TH,  AT 
EIGHT  PRECISELY. 

One  of  these  alluring  advertisements  was  affixed 
to  the  wall  of  the  Pier  Pavilion,  but  it  did  not  at 
tract  as  much  attention  during  the  afternoon  pre 
ceding  Monsieur  Blitzini's  promised  first  perform 
ance  as  it  deserved,  for  a  band  was  playing  in  the 
middle  of  the  Pavilion,  and  at  the  end  of  the  Pier 
the  noted  Man  Otter  and  his  sc<  en  sons  and  daugh- 


124  EDGED    TOOLS. 

ters  were  giving  their  astonishing  Aquatic   Enter 
tainment. 

Monsieur  Blitzini's  advertisement  had,  however, 
considerable  interest  for  two  men  lounging  along 
the  pier — two  men  whom  a  boy  would  have  called 
elderly,  and  whom  an  old  man  would  have  declared 
young.  They  were  Steele  Wyoming,  an  Ameri 
can,  and  Cecil  Cameron,  an  Englishman.  They 
paused  before  the  placard  and  read  it  silently  and 
with  profound  absorption.  A  smile  or  two  flitted 
across  the  Englishman's  face  during  the  perusal, 
but  the  humorous  gloom  of  the  American  deepened. 

"  Cecil,"  said  the  latter  solemnly,  "  this  is  tall 
talk,  but  I  like  it." 

"  Steele,"  replied  his  friend,  "  I  think  it  is  more 
fun  than  a  barrel  of  monkeys." 

"  It  is  very  strange,"  Wyoming  remarked  with 
the  air  of  a  person  making  a  serious  confidence  to 
himself,  "how  well  he  can  talk  American.  Much 
better  than  I  do,  in  fact." 

"  I  had  the  advantage  of  studying  it  as  a  foreign 
language,"  Cameron  retorted  with  equal  gravity. 

"  Perhaps  that  may  be  the  true  explanation," 
said  the  American.  "  Now  what  about  this  hanky 
man  ?  " 

"  I  think  he's  just  lovely,"  interrupted  the  English- 


EDGED   TOOLS.  125 

man.  "  The  Esoteric  touch  is  good,  and  so  is  the 
'  so-called  Art  of  Magic.'  " 

"  The  contempt  for  '  the  use  of  profuse  machin 
ery  '  is  quite  Machiavellian.  Altogether  he  seems 
to  have  got  hold  of  an  idea  both  new  and  good. 
We've  had  over  and  over  again  the  converted  and 
unconverted  and  re-re-re-converted  Spiritualist,  but 
to  happen  on  a  new  kind  of  spirits  while  you  were 
engaged  in  exposing  the  bogus  one  is  a  good 
act." 

"It's  not  half  bad,"  Cameron  added;  "and  I'm 
really  grateful  to  him  for  saying  nothing  about  that 
detestable  rubbish,  Thought-Reading.  It  would 
have  been  so  easy  for  him  to  ring  in  the  old  Second- 
Sight  business  and  to  call  it  Thought-Reading  by 
Spirits  of  the  n^  Sphere." 

"  Blitzini  has  a  soul  above  that." 

"  We're  going  to  see  him  ?  "  asked  Cameron. 

Wyoming  stared  at  him  silently  for  a  few  seconds, 
and  then  said,  "  Why  persist  in  asking  foolish  ques 
tions?  As  if  any  two  members  of  the  Rosicrucian 
Brotherhood  could  be  anywhere  and  see  an  ad.  of  a 
fakir's  show  and  keep  away." 

"  That's  so/'  said  the  Englishman,  as  they  walked 
away. 

Before  they  reached  the  end  of  the  pier  Cameron 


126  EDGED   TOOLS. 

paused  suddenly,  and  grasped  his  companion's  arm 
and  said,  "  I've  an  idea !  " 

"  Then  I  would  suggest  that  you  freeze  to  it," 
remarked  Wyoming,  pleasantly. 

"  Sir,"  replied  Cameron,  "  to  speak  your  benighted 
tongue — I  have  no  use  for  you.  Yet  I  will  relent 
and  tell  you  my  idea." 

"  Fire  away!  " 

"  I  will  be  brief.  This  Blitzini  used  to  be  a  con 
jurer,  but  now  he  pretends  that  he  is  a  conjurer  no 
more,  as  the  newly-discovered  spirits  work  all  his 
tricks  for  him.  This,  naturally,  is  all  jimmy,  and 
he  does  his  little  deceptions  just  like  any  other 
conjurer,  of  course." 

"  Of  course,"  Wyoming  said,  as  Cameron  drew 
breath. 

"  Now  this  is  my  idea.  Suppose  that  there  are 
really  spirits  of  the  n*  sphere,  and  suppose  that 
they  are  of  a  sensitive  nature  and  do  not  like  to  be 
spoken  of  lightly — 

"The  Huffy  Spook,"  commented  Wyoming, 
gravely,  "  isn't  a  bad  notion." 

"Spook,  for  all  it  is  German,  is  a  blessed  word," 
said  Cameron  ;  "  it  is  so  much  more  expressive  than 
ghost  or  spectre.  But  you  do  not  yet  catch  on. 
Just  imagine  those  spirits  reading  this  advertise 


EDGED   TOOLS.  1 2? 

ment  and  seeing  themselves  billed  to  perform  out 
of  their  proper  sphere.  It  seems  to  me  that  this 
placard  is  calculated  to  hold  them  up  to  ridicule 
and  contempt  among  the  spirits  of  other  spheres." 

"  I  see,"  Wyoming  interrupted  ;  "  and  I  think  they 
would  be  justified  in  getting  mad." 

"And  wouldn't  they  be  likely  to  go  for  that  magi 
cian,"  asked  Cameron,  "  and  have  some  fun  with 
him  ?  " 

"  It  would  be  a  cold  day  for  the  unlucky  fakir," 
assented  Wyoming. 

"  I  don't  like  to  think  what  might  happen,"  the 
Englishman  continued. 

The  American  smiled  solemnly  and  said,  "Well, 
with  a  bewildered  and  baffled  conjurer  and  a  lot  of 
angry  spooks  lying  around  loose  with  their  dander 
up,  almost  anything  might  happen.  And,  if  any 
thing  should  happen,  why,  as  Artemus  Ward  says, 
it  would  be  money  in  that  man's  pocket  if  he  had 
never  been  born." 

"Fancy,  now,"  said  Cameron;  "what  if  this 
should  occur  to-night  ?  He  is  to  give  his  show  for 
two  evenings  only.  Do  you  know  what  to-day  is  ?  " 

"  Friday." 

"  Hangman's  day,  you  know,"  Cameron  contin 
ued,  "  and  it's  the  thirteenth  of  the  month." 


128  EDGED    TOOLS. 

"That's  a  curiously  unlucky  combination,  isn't 
it?"  the  American  asked.  "I've  had  a  baker's 
dozen  of  misfortunes  happen  to  me  on  a  Friday 
when  it  was  a  thirteenth.  I  guess  we  had  better  go 
to-night — perhaps  something  will  happen." 

"  Meanwhile,"  said  the  Englishman,  as  they 
walked  from  the  Pier  upon  the  Esplanade,  "  we 
must  dine.  I  want  a  square  meal  to  give  me 
strength  to  see  the  show.  It's  hot  and  dusty,  so 
let's  take  a  fly  to  the  hotel — let's  be  hauled  mealers, 
as  you  Americans  say." 

"  It  is  wonderful,"  Wyoming  remarked,  as  he 
beckoned  to  a  cabman,  "  quite  wonderful  how  well 
he  speaks  American." 

"  I  learnt  it,"  replied  Cameron,  with  amazing 
effrontery,  "  from  Henry  James's  novels." 

After  their  dinner  the  two  friends  lighted  their 
cigarettes  and  strolled  slowly  along  the  Esplanade 
to  the  Pier.  When  they  reached  the  Pavilion  they 
found  a  stream  of  spectators  trickling  into  the  hall 
where  Monsieur  Blitzini  was  to  perform.  At  the 
suggestion  of  the  American  they  tossed  half  a  crown 
to  see  who  should  pay  for  the  tickets.  Wyoming 
lost,  and  he  selected  seats  in  the  front  row. 

The  hall  was  about   half-full  when  they  entered 


EDGED    TOOLS.  129 

it,  and  a  few  betarded  stragglers  came  in  while  the 
pianist  was  playing  the  overture. 

"  I  know  this  hall  very  well,"  said  Cameron,  as 
they  sat  down ;  "  I  acted  here  last  year  in  private 
theatricals.  It  has  one  disadvantage,  there  is  no 
stage-door.'  We  had  to  come  in  at  the  main  en 
trance  just  as  we  did  to-night,  and  walk  through 
the  auditorium_to  that  door  over  there  on  the  right 
which  leads  to  the  stage  and  to  the  two  dressing- 
rooms  alongside  of  it.  We  gave  a  comic  opera, 
and  we  were  very  cramped  for  space." 

"  I  guess  there  will  be  room  enough  for  the 
spooks  to  put  in  their  fine  work,"  Wyoming  an 
swered,  intensifying  his  Americanisms  as  he  was 
wont  to  do  for  the  benefit  of  his  English  friend. 

"Guess,  spook,  fine  work.  I'll  get  'em  all  three 
all  ready,"  said  Cameron,  quoting  Sir  Andrew 
Aguecheek.  "Yours  is  a  great  language;  though, 
as  I  remarked  before,  you  do  draw  on  the  German." 

"  I  wonder  what  may  be  Monsieur  Blitzini's  na 
tive  tongue  ?  "  asked  Wyoming. 

"Monsieur  is  French,"  answered  Cameron,  "  Blitz 
is  German,  and  ini  is  Italian — 

"  Then  he  is  either  an  Irishman  or  a  Russian," 
the  American  declared  with  an  air  of  profound 

wisdom. 
9 


130  EDGED    TOOLS. 

"  His  programme  is  in  French,"  Cameron  re 
marked  as  he  bought  one  from  the  attendant ;  "  at 
least  it  is  in  what  purports  to  be  French." 

"  It's  a  little  short,  isn't  it  ?  "  the  American  que 
ried  ;  "  seven  tricks  in  the  first  part  and  six  in  the 
second." 

"Total,  thirteen  again!"  cried  the  Englishman. 

At  this  moment  the  musician  left  off  playing, 
and  the  curtain  rose  revealing  a  stage  almost  bare. 
There  was  an  ordinary  drawing-room  table  in  the 
centre,  and  at  the  sides  there  were  t\vo  smaller 
tables  with  glass  tops ;  at  the  back  there  was  a  tall 
cone,  like  an  extinguisher,  except  that  it  was  quite 
seven  feet  high.  Three  or  four  of  the  footlights  in 
the  middle  had  been  removed,  and  an  inclined  plane 
led  from  the  stage  about  half-way  down  the  centre 
of  the  hall.  It  was  next  to  this  "  run-down,"  as  it 
is  technically  called,  that  Cameron  and  Wyoming 
had  taken  their  seats. 

A  few  seconds  after  the  curtain  rose,  Monsieur 
Blitzini  appeared  at  the  right  of  the  stage,  and  ad 
vancing  to  the  centre  he  bowed  to  the  audience. 
He  was  a  man  of  less  than  forty.  He  was  tall  and 
slight,  with  a  little  stoop  of  the  head.  He  had 
thick  dark  hair,  already  grizzled.  He  had  a  young 
ish  face,  but  it  was  heavily  wrinkled.  Heavy  eye 


EDGED   TOOLS.  131 

brows  arched  over  eyes  which  were  his  chief  personal 
peculiarity;  they  were  gray  with  a  streak  of  red  in 
the  iris.  His  hands  were  fine  and  delicate,  but  there 
was  a  feline  suggestion  in  their  movements.  The 
ease  of  his  manner  was  not  artificial,  but  it  might 
fairly  be  called  excessive. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  said,  as  he  surveyed 
the  audience  calmly,  "  I  hope  to  have  the  pleasure 
this  evening  of  entertaining  you  with  the  sight  of 
strange  wonders.  What  I  shall  perform  before  you 
is  so  unlike  the  ordinary  performance  of  the  ordi 
nary  conjurer  that  without  seeming  boastful  it  would 
be  impossible  for  me  to  expatiate  on  the  extraor 
dinary  novelty  of  my  programme,  were  it  not  that 
I  cannot  claim  for  myself  any  credit  for  the  marvels 
which  will  be  accomplished  this  evening.  All  that 
I  have  done  is  to  discover  the  Spirits  of  the  Silent 
Sphere  and  to  induce  them  to  lend  us  their  aid  for 
the  working  of  many  wonders.  If,  therefore,  what 
you  may  see  here  to-night  pleases  you,  it  is  these 
Spirits  whom  you  must  thank,  not  me.  I  am  only 
a  humble  instrument  in  their  hands,  and  they  are 
the  real  authors  of  all  the  startling  novelties  which 
I  hope  to  be  able  to  exhibit  before  you  this  evening. 
I  have  to  beg  that  you  will  bear  this  in  rnind.  I 
use  neither  apparatus  nor  sleight-of-hand,  nor  do  I 


132  EDGED   TOOLS.  . 

rely  in  any  way  on  my  own  dexterity  or  ingenuity. 
All  that  I  do  is  to  serve  as  the  medium  whereby 
these  Spirits  work  wonders,  closely  akin  to  those 
which  the  Egyptian  magicians  wrought  before 
Pharaoh — perhaps  by  the  same  means." 

As  Monsieur  Blitzini  finished  this  very  irregular 
.speech,  almost  exactly  the  opposite  of  that  ordi 
narily  spoken  by  the  professional  conjurer,  Cameron 
and  Wyoming  looked  at  each  other  in  blank  surprise. 

"  This  is  pretty  steep,  isn't  it  ? "  asked  the 
American. 

"  It  is  that,"  the  Englishman  answered ;  "  and  I 
think  it  is  about  the  coolest  thing  I  ever  heard. 
Just  look  over  the  programme,  and  you  can  recog 
nize  every  trick  on  it,  in  spite  of  the  fancy  French 
names." 

"  Le  Bouquet  d*  Iris"  said  Wyoming,  "  that's  the 
growth  of  flowers,  I  suppose,  and  La  Pluie  de 
Danac  is  the  shower  of  money,  of  course.  But  what 
is  Le  Tireur  des  Cartes  ?  " 

"  It's  bad  French  for  the  rising  cards,  I'll  be 
bound,"  Cameron  answered.  "  And  the  others  are 
all  as  familiar  as  these." 

"  You  think,  then,  that  he  is  hiding  the  old-fash 
ioned  tricks  under  new-fangled  names,  and  that  he 
is  merely  an  ordinary  conjurer,  who  has  chosen  to 


EDGED   TOOLS.  133 

give   variety  to  his  show   by  alleging  that   familiar 
spirits  come  from  the  vasty  deep  to  do  his  bidding?  " 

"  Precisely  so." 

"  It's  a  dodge  worthy  of  Barnum  at  his  best  or 
Sarah  Bernhardt,"  said  the  American,  enthusiasti 
cally. 

While  the  two  friends  were  exchanging  impres-* 
sions  Monsieur  Blitzini  had  retired  up  the  stage,  as 
though  to  see  that  everything  was  in  order.     From 
the  centre-table  he  had  taken  up  his  wand.  With  this 
in  his  right  hand  he  advanced  again  to  the  foot-lights. 

"  I  beg  you  will  pardon  this  delay  of  a  moment 
only,  but  you  must  observe  that  I  have  dispensed 
with  an  assistant,  and  that  I  shall  not  leave  the 
stage  during  the  performance.  I  shall  remain  be 
fore  you  the  whole  evening,  except  during  the  brief 
intermission  between  the  two  parts  of  the  entertain 
ment,  and  I  shall  have  no  assistance  whatever — 
save  the  unseen  hands  of  the  Silent  Spirits." 

As  he  paused  for  a  moment,  Cameron  said  to 
Wyoming: 

"  He  has  a  curious  accent,  hasn't  he  ?  It  might 
be  foreign — Dutch  or  Russian — and  it  might  be 
English." 

"He's  not  an  American,"  replied  Wyoming;  "I 
feel  sure  of  that." 


134  EDGED   TOOLS. 

1 1  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  beginning  my  en 
tertainment,"  Monsieur  Blitzini  continued,  "with 
the  strange  marvel  which  I  have  called  Le  Bouquet 
cT Iris.  I  have  here  a  flower-pot  filled  with  garden- 
mould,  and  I  take  six  seeds  from  this  package,  and 
— "  Here  he  interrupted  himself  and  glanced  with 
•apparent  surprise  at  the  right  lapel  of  his  coat. 
"  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  I  see  I  have  presented  my 
self  before  you  without  the  flower  which  ought  to 
adorn  my  button-hole.  Now,  I  agree  with  a  friend 
of  mine  who  said  he  would  rather  wear  a  flower 
without  a  dress-coat  than  a  dress-coat  without  a 
flower.  Fortunately  the  omission  is  easily  rectified. 
I  take  one  of  these  seeds  and  I  place  it  in  my  but 
ton-hole  ;  I  beg  that  the  attendant  spirits  shall  cause 
it  to  grow  at  once  into  a  flower;  I  raise  my  wand 
in  the  air;  I  apply  it  to  the  button-hole;  and  you 
see- 
Monsieur  Blitzini  suited  the  action  to  the  word, 
and  the  spectators  did  see.  The  seed  in  the  button 
hole  grew  at  once  to  a  large  sunflower  which  spread 
over  the  lapel  of  his  coat.  Then  suddenly  its 
outer  circle  began  to  revolve  and  to  crackle,  while 
from  the  centre  there  shot  out,  with  a  sharp  report, 
a  long  jet  of  flame.  The  sunflower  had  changed  to 
a  small  Catherine  wheel,  which  whirled  round, 


EDGED    TOOLS.  135 

banging,  and  blazing,  and  whizzing,  and  crackling 
until  it  had  spent  its  short-lived  fury.  Monsieur 
Blitzini  stood  motionless  in  the  centre  of  the  stage, 
not  lifting  a  finger  to  save  his  beard,  which  was 
getting  singed,  as  the  King  of  Spain's  was  by  Drake. 
A  look  of  surprise  came  into  his  gray  eyes,  and  their 
red  pupils  glowed  above  the  more  material  fire 
works.  At  last  the  spinning  wheel  of  fire  gave  a 
final  blaze  and  a  sudden  bang,  and  died  out  and 
disappeared. 

"  I  say,"  said  Cameron,  "  this  is  something  like  a 
trick." 

"As  you  justly  observe,"  Wyoming  returned,  "  it 
grows  interesting.  Who  would  have  thought  that 
the  old  flower  trick  had  so  much  flame  in  it  ?  " 

"  A  man  must  know  his  Shakespeare  monstrous 
well  to  talk  with  you,"  Cameron  answered. 

"  You  see  I'm  an  American,"  Wyoming  replied, 
"  and  it  is  meat  and  drink  to  us  to  quote  Shake 
speare,  even  when  we  see  a  conjurer  bound  upon  a 
wheel  of  fire,  like  King  Lear.  Did  you  notice  that 
Blitzini  seems  quite  as  much  surprised  as  we  are  ?  " 

"  He  bears  the  ordeal  by  fire  very  bravely,"  Cam 
eron  assented,  "  but  I  confess  that  I  don't  exactly 
understand  this." 

Meanwhile  the  spectators  had  been  tumultuous 


136  EDGED   TOOLS. 

in  their  applause  of  this  truly  brilliant  trick.  Mon 
sieur  Blitzini  stood  silent  in  the  centre  of  the  stage, 
bowing  his  acknowledgments,  without  a  trace  of 
the  flower  or  of  the  fire  which  had  followed  it 
in  the  lapel  of  his  coat.  His  black  doeskin  coat 
was  immaculate.  There  was  a  flickering  smile  on 
his  lips,  and  it  seemed  as  though  it  was  only  by  a 
strong  effort  that  he  was  able  to  keep  the  wand  in 
his  hand  from  trembling.  As  the  applause  died 
away  he  roused  himself,  and,  taking  up  the  flower 
pot,  he  descended  the  run-down  and  stood  among 
the  audience.  Here  he  finished  the  trick  in  more 
conventional  fashion.  He  borrowed  a  hat  and  held 
it  over  the  flower-pot,  and  asked  a  lady  to  place  her 
hands  on  the  hat,  and  then  removed  the  hat  to  reveal 
a  beautiful  bouquet  of  hot-house  flowers  standing 
upright  in  the  earth  of  the  pot.  He  presented  the 
bouquet  to  the  lady  gracefully,  and  then  returned 
to  the  stage  to  bow  again. 

It  was  with  a  lighter  heart,  evidently,  that  he 
began  the  second  trick  on  the  programme,  where 
it  figured  as  La  Montr c  Indestructible.  Under  this 
title  Monsieur  Blitzini  began  to  perform  the  famil 
iar  feat  with  a  borrowed  watch,  which  is  first  proved 
to  be  a  repeater  with  the  eccentric  faculty  of  strik 
ing  any  hour  that  the  owner  may  choose,  and  is 


EDGED   TOOLS.  137 

then  smashed  to  fragments  in  a  mighty  mortar.  In 
the  beginning  of  this  trick,  while  the  performer  was 
among  the  audience,  all  went  well;  but  at  the  end, 
when  he  returned  to  the  stage  and  wrapped  the 
shattered  fragments  in  a  sheet  of  paper,  this  sheet 
of  paper  suddenly  disappeared,  and  the  wheels 
and  springs  fell  scattered  on  the  stage..  Wyoming 
noticed  a  curious  and  enigmatic  expression  in  the 
conjurer's  face  as  he  stooped  to  gather  up  the 
broken  bits.  Monsieur  Blitzini  took  another  sheet 
of  paper;  and  again  it  vanished  from  his  fingers 
and  again  the  fragments  of  the  watch  fell  on  the 
sjiage.  Collecting  them  once  more  and  taking  a 
third  sheet  of  paper,  Monsieur  Blitzini  stepped  out 
upon  the  run-down,  and  this  time  he  was  successful 
in  making  a  parcel.  He  gave  this  parcel  to  the 
owner  of  the  watch  and  asked  him  to  open  it, 
whereupon  the  time-piece  was  found  intact. 

"  I  shall  now  have  the  honor  of  showing  you," 
said  Monsieur  Blitzini,  as  he  again  took  up  his  po 
sition  in  the  centre  of  the  stage,  "  if  the  assistance 
I  count  upon  from  the  Spirits  of  the  Silent  Sphere 
is  vouchsafed  to  me,  the  .  wondrous  experiment 
which  I  have  called  L'Ecole  de  Cuisine  tenue  par 
Bclialidcs." 

"His  French  accent  is  good,"  Cameron  remarked. 


138  EDGED   TOOLS. 

"  But  he  isn't  easy  in  his  mind,"  answered  Wyo 
ming,  who  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  face  of  the 
magician. 

"  I  shall  now,"  continued  Monsieur  Blitzini,  "ven 
ture  to  tax  your  good-nature  again  by  requesting 
the  loan  of  a  hat."  As  he  came  down  from  the 
stage  his  eye  caught  that  of  Wyoming,  to  whose 
questioning  look  he  returned  a  glance  of  reassur 
ance.  Cameron  and  his  friend  had  seen  already 
that  the  performer  had  recognized  them  as  experts 
in  the  art;  and  they  were  conscious  that,  as  is  the 
custom  of  conjurers,  he  was  playing  at  them.  Wy 
oming  held  up  his  hat,  and  the  magician  smilingly 
took  it  from  him  and  returned  to  the  stage. 

L Ecole  de  Cuisine  tcnue  par  Belialides  was  soon 
seen  to  be  a  variation  on  the  familiar  trick  of  the 
omelette  cooked  in  the  hat  over  the  flame  of  a  can 
dle — the  trick  over  which  Robert  Houdin,  in  his 
'prentice  days,  burnt  his  fingers  and  the  borrowed 
hat.  Monsieur  Blitzini  broke  an  egg  into  Wyo 
ming's  hat,  whereat  the  young  ladies  in  the  audience 
giggled  convulsively.  He  added  butter  and  salt 
and  pepper,  and  he  stirred  these  together  furiously 
with  a  long-handled  spoon — such  as  a  man  should 
have  when  he  sups  with  the  devil.  Then  he  held 
the  hat  over  a  candle,  and  a  sudden  smoke  arose, 


EDGED   TOOLS.  139 

and  a  fragrant  odor  was  wafted  across  the  footlights. 
It  was  clearly  evident  that  the  trick  had  been  ac 
complished.  Monsieur  Blitzini  laid  the  hat  on  the 
stage  just  in  front  of  the  run-down,  and  was  about 
to  put  his  hand  into  it  to  withdraw  the  omelette, 
chatting  pleasantly  the  while  and  making  many 
small  jokes  about  his  own  culinary  facilities,  when 
he  happened  to  cast  his  eyes  into  the  hat.  Instantly 
he  withdrew  his  hand,  and  started  back  in  undis 
guised  astonishment  commingled  with  terror.  The 
head  of  a  large  snake  protruded  from  the  hat  and 
extended  itself  threateningly.  With  a  sinuous 
movement  it  thrust  itself  forward  from  the  hat  and 
started  toward  the  spectators.  It  was  a  huge  boa- 
constrictor,  apparently,  and  in  girth  it  was  almost 
equal  to  the  hat  from  which  it  was  proceeding.  The 
magician  stood  stock-still  on  one  side,  staring  at 
the  serpent  as  though  fascinated ;  only  a  tremor  in  • 
his  knees  betrayed  his  fear.  The  head  of  the  great 
snake  crossed  the  two  yards  or  more  of  the  space 
between  the  hat  and  the  footlights,  and  still  the 
body  continued  to  emerge  from  the  hat.  At  last 
it  arrived  at  the  run-down,  and  with  a  slight  effort 
it  raised  itself  and  started  to  cross  this  little  bridge 
to  reach  the  audience.  There  was  a  sudden  move 
ment  of  alarm  among  the  spectators,  most  of  whom 


140  EDGED    TOOLS. 

thought  that  the  appearance  of  the  serpent  was 
part  of  the  trick,  and  were  yet  frightened  by  the 
fearful  reality ,  but  this  alarm  was  allayed  when  the 
head  of  the  snake,  as  it  entered  on  the  run-down 
and  passed  the  line  of  the  footlights,  suddenly  van 
ished.  The  tortuous  body  could  be  seen  rising  from 
the  hat  and  pressing  forward  only  to  become  invisi 
ble  as  it  left  the  stage.  It  was  some  seconds  after 
the  head  had  disappeared  before  the  tail  of  the 
snake  left  the  hat,  but  soon  it  followed  the  headless 
body,  which  continued  to  move  toward  the  specta 
tors  and  which  was  steadily  disappearing  as  it  left 
the  stage.  The  tail  advanced  nearer  the  line  of  the 
footlights  until  only  a  yard  of  the  snake's  length 
was  to  be  seen,  then  only  half  a  yard  was  visible; 
at  last  the  final  few  inches,  thin  and  tapering,  passed 
across  the  diminishing  distance,  until,  with  a  sinister 
.vibration,  the  tip  of  the  tale  waved  itself  upon  the 
run-down  and  into  invisible  space. 

Cameron  and  Wyoming  looked  at  each  other  for 
a  moment,  and  then  turned  again  to  watch  Mon 
sieur  Blitzini,  from  whom  they  had  hardly  taken 
their  eyes  during  the  brief  minute  of  the  huge  ser 
pent's  existence.  They  saw  him  give  one  gasp  be 
fore  he  recovered  himself  sufficiently  to  take  the 
abundant  applause  which  followed  an  effect  as  novel 


EDGEQ    TOOLS.  141 

and  as  surprising  and  as  inexplicable  as  this.  He 
snatched  up  the  hat  from  the  door  and  rushed  upon 
the  run-down.  Then  he  paused  and  drew  a  long 
breath.  In  a  moment  he  had  turned  out  upon  a 
plate,  with  which  he  had  previously  provided  one 
of  the  spectators,  the  smoking  omelette  of  which 
the  appetizing  odors  had  been  perceived  before  the 
appearing  of  the  snake,  and  he  had  returned  the 
hat  unimpaired  to  Wyoming. 

"  He  works  neatly,"  said  Cameron. 

"  But  he  is  powerful  Scared,"  Wyoming  answered. 
"  These  new  variations  on  the  old  tricks  surprise 
him  as  much  as  they  do  us." 

"Perhaps  our  joke  is  coming  true-  the  spirits 
have  taken  umbrage  at  his  unauthorized  use  of  their 
names,  and  they  are  playing  tricks  on  him." 

"  Do  you  think  that  his  familiar  spook  has  gone 
back  on  him  ?  "  asked  Wyoming. 

"  What  else  can  I  think  ? "  returned  Cameron. 
"  The  Huffy  Spook  theory  is  the  only  tenable 
one." 

"  It  will  serve  as  a  working  hypothesis  at  least," 
Wyoming  assented.  "  But  why  is  it  that  all  goes 
well  while  he  is  down  here  among  the  audience,  and 
that  everything  goes  wrong  when  he  is  up  there  on 
the  stage  ?  Have  you  noticed  it  ?  " 


142  EDGED    TOOLS. 

"  Yes,"  Cameron  answered,  "  I  see  it,  and  it  is 
queer." 

Of  the  next  two  items  on  the  programme  there 
is  no  need  to  speak  in  detail.  The  tricks  were  com 
monplace  enough  in  themselves,  but  they  proved  to 
be  quite  uncommon  in  their  execution.  There  was 
nothing  as  surprising  or  as  startling  as  the  serpent 
which  rose  from  the  hat  and  disappeared  by  inches 
with  a  sharp  line  as  though  it  had  been  cut  off  with 
a  knife,  but  they  were  astonishing  enough. 

Wyoming  kept  close  watch  of  the  magician's  face, 
and  he  noted  all  his  movements,  and  he  saw  that 
Monsieur  Blitzini,  in  so  far  as  possible,  kept  among 
the  spectators  and  away  from  the  stage.  lie  was 
confirmed  in  his  idea  that  it  was  only  on  the  further 
side  of  the  footlights  that  the  indignant  spirits  were 
able  to  take  advantage  of  the  conjurer's  weakness. 
Monsieur  Blitzini  had  full  control  of  his  resources  so 
long  as  he  was  in  the  midst  of  the  audience,  and 
both  tricks  went  well  enough  until  the  exigencies 
of  the  performance  forced  the  magician  to  return 
to  the  stage. 

And  so  it  was  with  the  sixth  trick  on  the  pro 
gramme,  which  was  called  Le  Tireur  des  Cartes,  but 
which  Wyoming  and  Cameron  soon  recognized  as 


EDGED    TOOLS.  .  143 

the  familiar  illusion  known  as  the  Rising  Cards, 
and  justly  popular  among  all  modern  magicians,  as 
it  is  almost  the  only  card-trick  which  is  showy 
enough  for  a  large  hall. 

Monsieur  Blitzini  took  a  pack  of  cards  in  his 
hand,  came  down  among  the  audience,  and  per 
formed  a  series  of  most  ingenious  sleights.  He 
passed  cards  into  a  man's  pocket  and  he  drew  cards 
from  a  lady's  fan.  He  gave  one  spectator  a  black 
card  to  hold,  and  then  touched  it  with  his  wand, 
and,  lo!  it  was  a  red  card.  He  bade  another  spec 
tator  think  of  a  card,  and  he  then  asked  him  if  he 
would  prefer' to  find  it  at  the  top  or  the  bottom  of 
the  pack,  and  when  the  spectator  chose  the  top,  he 
turned  over  the  uppermost  card  and  it  was  the  one 
thought  of.  At  last  he  asked  six  different  persons 
in  different  parts  of  the  hall  to  draw  cards  and  re 
turn  them  to  the  pack,  which,  when  this  had  been 
done,  was  thoroughly  shuffled. 

Monsieur  Blitzini  went  back  to  the  stage  and 
placed  the  pack  in  a  glass  goblet,  and  with  this  in 
his  hand  he  advanced  towards  the  footlights.  Turn 
ing  to  the  spectator  who  had  drawn  the  first  of  the 
six  cards,  he  said,  "  Will  you  please  ask  your  card 
to  rise  from  the  pack  ?  " 


144  •  EDGED    TOOLS. 

Before  the  spectator  could  make  this  request  a 
card  jumped  from  the  pack,  flew  to  the  side  of  the 
stage,  and  fixed  itself  to  the  scene. 

Monsieur  Blitzini's  voice  quavered  as  he  asked  : 
"  Is  that  your  card,  sir  ?  " 

"  No,"  was  the  uncompromising  answer. 

A  second  card  rose  from  the  pack,  skimmed 
through  the  air,  and  fastened  itself  on  the  scene  on 
the  other  side  of  the  stage. 

"Is  that  your  card?"  asked    Monsieur   Blitzini 
doubtfully. 
•     "  No,"  answered  the  spectator  again. 

A  third  card,  a  fourth,  and  a  fifth  rose  from  the 
pack  in  rapid  succession,  danced  about  the  stage, 
and  affixed  themselves  here  and  there  on  the 
scenery.  They  were  followed  by  a  dozen  more, 
which  rose  in  a  bunch,  flew  separately  through  the 
air,  and  attached  themselves  to  every  salient  object 
on  the  stage. 

"  Do  you  see  your  card,  sir  ?"  Monsieur  Blitzini 
inquired  again,  with  an  obvious  uneasiness  in  his 
tone. 

And  again  the  spectator  answered : 

"No." 

Monsieur  Blitzini  had  come  near  the  footlights  to 
ask  this  question,  and  he  now  stepped  out  upon  the 


EDGED    TOOLS.  145 

run-down  with  the  glass  containing  the  remaining 
cards  in  his  right. hand. 

"  What  was  your  card  ? "  he  asked  with  a  dis 
heartened  smile. 

"  The  king  of  diamonds,"  the  spectator  replied ; 
and  as  he  spoke  the  king  of  diamonds  rose  from  the 
pack  and  bowed  gracefully. 

The  spell  of  ill  luck  was  broken,  and  the  five 
other  cards  rose  in  turn  from  the  pack.  Monsieur 
Blit/.ini  was  again  able  to  bow  acknowledgments  to 
the  round  of  applause  which  always  greets  this  favor 
ite  feat  when  it  is  properly  performed.  Wyoming, 
who  was  a  close  observer — he  was  an  excellent 
poker-player — noticed  that  although  the  magician's 
lips  smiled,  his  eyes  did  not. 

The  final  number  of  the  first  part  of  the  pro 
gramme  purported  to  be  La  Pluie  de  Danae,  which 
Wyoming  and  Cameron  had  guessed  to  be  a  fantas 
tic  title  for  the  familiar  and  effective  trick  generally 
known  as  the  Shower  of  Money.  In  this  surmise 
they  were  right.  With  admirable  dexterity  Mon 
sieur  Blitzini  seemed  to  catch  sovereigns  out  of  the 
circumambient  air;  he  found  them  in  the  bonnets 
of  the  ladies  and  in  the  beards  of  the  men ;  he  dis 
covered  them  here,  there,  and  everywhere;  he  bor 
rowed  a  hat,  and  he  threw  into  it  enough  gold 


146  EDGED   TOOLS. 

apparently  to  suffice  to  fill  it  to  the  brim.  He  gave 
a  pretty  touch  to  the  trick  by  rrfaking  an  ever  in 
creasing  arc  of  gold  pieces  stretch  from  one  hand 
to  the  other,  and  then  from  one  hand  into  the  hat — 
"like  a  bar-tender  mixing  drinks  and  pouring  a 
cocktail  from  a  glass  in  his  right  hand  to  a  glass  in 
his  left,"  as  Wyoming  described  it. 

While  performing  this  ingenious  variation  on  an 
old  trick,  Monsieur  Blitzini  backed  slowly  up  the 
run-down,  with  the  shower  of  gold  apparently  in 
creasing  in  volume.  From  a  hasty  glance  he  cast 
behind  him,  Cameron  and  Wyoming  guessed  that 
he  meant  to  carry  the  trick  right  back  to  the  ex 
treme  limit  of  the  shallow  stage.  Suddenly  some 
thing  happened  which  delighted  the  rest  of  the 
spectators,  although  it  caused  the  t\vo  friends  a 
painful  surprise. 

Monsieur  Blitzini  had  scarcely  more  than  set  his 
foot  on  the  stage,  with  the  shower  of  gold  still  fall 
ing,  when  the  sovereigns  disappeared,  and  in  their 
place  appeared  a  host  of  short  stout  cudgels,  which 
began  to  descend  in  a  rain  of  pelting  blows  on  the 
conjurer's  back  and  shoulders  and  arms.  This 
spectacle  of  a  man  taken  at  a  physical  disadvantage 
caused  the  audience  the  greatest  possible  delight. 
Even  the  more  knowing  ones,  who  felt  sure  that  it 


EDGED    TOOLS.  147 

was  part  of  the  trick,  applauded  the  scared  look  and 
pained  expression  which  crossed  Monsieur  Blitzini's 
face,  and  which  they  accepted  as  the  perfection  of 
acting. 

"  The  spooks  are  playing  it  pretty  low  down  on 
the  wonder-worker,  it  seems  to  me,"  said  Wyoming 
compassionately. 

"  A  stuffed  club  is  no  joke,"  Cameron  answered. 

Monsieur  Blitzini's  weird  face  had  undergone 
many  changes  of  expression  since  the  sudden  trans 
mutation  of  the  precious  metal  to  dull  wood. 
Amazement,  pain,  terror,  and  despair  chased  each 
other  across  his  features.  Unable  at  last  to  bear  the 
unexpected  visitation  any  longer,  the  magician  fled 
headlong  to  the  run-down.  As  he  crossed  the  line 
of  the  footlights,  the  shower  of  bludgeons  vanished 
utterly,  and  an  arc  of  sovereigns  began  again,  fall 
ing  from  his  hand  to  the  hat.  He  closed  this  into 
the  hat,  showed  that  the  hat  was  absolutely  empty, 
and  then  returned  it  to  its  owner  as  swiftly  as  he 
could. 

He  stood  before  the  spectators  perturbed  and 
panting,  and  he  bowed  again  and  again  before  the 
plaudits  of  the  audience,  getting  his  breath  back  in 
the  brief  respite  to  announce  that  this  concluded 
the  first  part  of  the  entertainment,  and  that  there 


148  EDGED    TOOLS. 

would  be  an  intermission  of  ten  minutes.  With 
another  salutation  he  withdrew,  returning  to  the 
stage  and  walking  off  hastily  to  the  right. 

"  Well,"  said  Wyoming,  as  the  magician  disap 
peared  from  view,  "what  do  you  think  now?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  think,  as  I  said  before. 
It's  a  very  picturesque  performance,  I  take  it,  all 
round." 

"  I  think  I've  found  out  the  secret.' 

"  Stand  and  deliver,"  said  Cameron. 

"Assuming  that  these  disturbances  are  caused  by 
exasperated  spirits,  as  we  are  justified  in  doing — 

"  Of  course  we  are,"  interrupted  Cameron  ;  "  you 
and  I  know  modern  magic  from  Alfred  to  Omaha, 
and  we  know  that  these  little  effects  are  quite  be 
yond  this  man's  power  to  control." 

"Assuming  this,  I  say,"  Wyoming  continued, 
"  we  have  to  discover  why  it  is  that  Monsieur 
Blitzini  meets  with  no  misadventures  except  when 
he  is  on  the  stage.  Now  I  have  a  theory.  The 
front  of  the  stage  is  circular,  and  it  is  only  behind 
the  arc  of  the  footlights  that  the  spirits  torment 
him.  It  has  struck  me  that  perhaps  there  has  been 
a  reversal  of  the  sacred  circle  of  fire  within  which 
the  sorcerer  who  evoked  spirits  was  safe  from  their 
assaults." 


KDGED   TOOLS.  149 

"A  circle  such  as  Benvenuto  Cellini  drew  about 
him  when  he  spent  a  lively  night  with  the  spooks  in 
the  Coliseum  at  Rome — is  that  what  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Precisely,"  answered  Wyoming.  "  He  was  safe 
within  the  mystic  ring  of  flame  because  the  spirits 
were  without  and  could'not  break  in.  But  Blitzini 
is  at  the  mercy  of  the  spirits  confined  within  the 
flaming  segment  of  the  footlights,  and  he  is  only 
free  from  torment  and  torture  when  he  breaks  out." 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you  were  right,  '  Cameron 
remarked,  after  a  moment's  thought.  "  Your  theory 
that  he  is  the  slave  of  the  lamps  and  of  the  ring  at 
least  explains  the  phenomenon,  which  is  otherwise 
almost  inexplicable." 

During  the  performance  of  the  second  part  of 
Monsieur  Blitzini's  programme  the  two  friends  had 
many  opportunities  of  verifying  the  hypothesis,  and 
they  found  that  it  was  in  accord  with  the  facts. 
One  of  the  tricks  was  performed  wholly  among  the 
spectators  without  the  return  of  the  magician  to  the 
stage,  and  in  this  Monsieur  Blitzini  was  perfectly 
successful  and  no  untoward  incident  marked  its  per 
formance.  But  the  very  next  illusion,  called  La 
Boisson  de  Tantale,  required  the  constant  presence 
of  the  conjurer  on  the  stage,  where  he  operated  an 
exchange  of  two  liquors,  filling  two  decanters  placed 


150  EDGED    TOOLS. 

at  opposite  extremities  of  the  footlights;  and  al 
though  the  ignorant  spectators  saw  nothing  at  all 
unusual  in  the  substitution  of  a  cone  of  blue  fire  for 
a  bottle  of  brandy,  Wyoming  and  Cameron  knew 
that  the  mocking  spirits  were  again  taking  a  freakish 
revenge  on  the  froward  magician  who  had  dared  to 
use  their  names  without  asking  their  permission 
In  another  trick,  which  appeared  on  the  bills  as  Lcs 
Drapeaux  de  FUnivcrs,  and  which  required  the  con 
jurer  to  produce  mysteriously  a  bundle  of  the  flags 
of  all  nations,  the  spirits  again  gained  the  upper 
hand  and  changed  the  pretty  silken  emblems  into  a 
stiff  cactus,  the  sharp  branches  or  which  bristled 
with  thorns  In  desperation  Monsieur  Blitzini 
crossed  the  line  of  the  footlights,  his  face  white  with 
apprehension,  but  a  glance  of  rigid  determination 
still  gleaming  from  his  eye;  no  sooner  had  he 
stepped  out  upon  the  run-down  than  the  green 
cactus  gave  way  to  a  sheaf  of  Italian  flags.  In  yet 
another  illusion,  the  next  to  the  last,  entitled  Un 
Duel  anx  Cartes,  a  card  chosen  by  one  of  the  audi 
ence  was  to  be  caught  on  the  point  of  a  sword  when 
the  spectator  threw  the  pack  in  the  air.  The  pre 
liminary  flourishes  of  the  trick  performed  amid  the 
audience  were  accomplished  without  let  or  hin 
drance,  but  when  Monsieur  Blitzini  took  up  his  po- 


EDGED    TOOLS.  151 

sition  in  the  centre  of  the  stage  with  the  naked  sword 
in  his  right  hand,  and  when  the  spectator  threw  the 
cards  towards  him,  the  blade  changed  suddenly  into 
a  revolver,  and  the  pack  was  riddled  by  six  bullets 
discharged  by  the  magician  involuntarily,  and  as 
though  in  obedience  to  a  will  stronger  than  his  own. 

"  That  is  pretty  good.  I  wonder  what  he  will  do 
next,"  said  Cameron,  quoting  the  charming  tale  of 
the  parrot  and  the  exploded  ship. 

"  If  he  has  as  much  sense  as  I  give  him  credit  for," 
replied  Wyoming,  "he  will  crawl  along  to  the  last 
trick  like  a  streak  of  greased  lightning." 

Cameron  referred  to  his  programme,  "  Le  Mage 
Invisiblique  is  the  last  trick." 

"  Invisiblique  is  good,"  Wyoming  remarked.  "  I'd 
like  to  know  what  it  means." 

"  I  take  it  to  imply  either  that  the  mage — that  is 
Monsieur  Blitzini  himself,  of  course — becomes  in 
visible,  or  that  he  has  his  eyes  blindfolded  so  that 
he  cannot  see.     We've  paid  our  money,  and  he  will 
take  his  choice." 

"  I  have  been  wondering  what  he  means  to  do 
with  that  tall  cone  there  at  the  back.  He  must  use 
it  in  this  trick  somehow,"  Wyoming  said  ;  "  it  looks 
like  a  huge  extinguisher,  doesn't  it? — fit  to  put  out 
the  candles  of  Giant  Blunderbore." 


152  EDGED    TOOLS. 

As  the  American  spoke,  Monsieur  Klit/.ini  brought 
the  cone  forward  and  placed  it  by  the  side  of  one 
of  the  light  little  round  tables,  of  which  there  were 
two,  one  at  the  right  and  one  at  the  left  of  the 
stage.  To  the  sharp  eyes  of  the  two  friends  it  was 
evident  that  the  magician's  nerves  were  unstrung, 
and  that  he  was  in  great  haste  to  get  to  the  end  of 
his  programme.  He  darted  now  and  again  suspi 
cious  glances  behind  him,  as  though  in  trepidation 
and  bodily  fear.  When  he  began  to  speak  his  voice 
was  flurried  ami  broken. 

"Time  runs  short,"  said  Monsieur  Blitzini,  facing 
the  audience,  "  and  I  am  now  approaching  the  con 
elusion  of  my  entertainment.  I  do  not  like  to  tax 
the  kindness  or  to  impose  on  the  patience  of  my 
friends,  the  Spirits  of  the  Silent  Sphere" — and  here 
he  shuddered  slightly — "  by  whose  aid  I  have  been 
enabled  to  work  the  wonders  you  have  beheld  this 
evening.  I  shall  have  the  honor  of  concluding  my 
entertainment  by  exhibiting  before  you  the  strange 
feat  which  I  have  called  the  Mage  Invisiblique.  For 
this  I  need  the  assistance  of  two  gentlemen  from 
the  audience,  if  they  will  kindly  grant  me  their 
help." 

Monsieur  Blitzini's  eyes,  which  had  been  wander 
ing  fitfully  during  the  delivery  of  this  speech,  now 


EDGED    TOOLS.  153 

fell  on  Wyoming  and  Cameron,  who  waited  for  no 
further  invitation,  but  sprang  up  the  run-down  and 
stood  on  the  stage  by  his  side. 

"  Thank  you,"  continued  Monsieur  Blitzini,  bow 
ing.  Wyoming  thought  he  detected  a  fleeting  ex 
pression  of  relief  on  the  conjurer's  face,  as  though 
he  was  glad  to  have  some  one  near  him  to  come 
to  his  aid  in  case  of  need. 

"  The  beginning  of  this  experiment  is  very  sim 
ple  ;  it  is  only  the  end  which  is  strangely  startling 
and  inexpressibly  surprising.  I  put  a  pack'  of  cards 
on  the  centre-table  here.  Then  I  stand  on  this 
little  table  with  the  glass  top  and  I  ask  these  gen 
tlemen  to  cover  me  over  with  this  extinguisher,  in 
order  that  I  may  be  wholly  unable  to  see  what  may 
take  place  on  the  stage.  Then  one  gentleman  will 
count  thirty  seconds,  while  the  other  gentleman 
takes  a  card  from  the  pack,  looks  at  it,  shows  it  to 
you,  and  returns  it.  At  the  end  of  the  half-minute 
both  gentlemen  lift  the  tall  cone  and  release  me 
from  my  solitary  confinement  in  this  dark  cell. 
Then  I  will  declare  the  card  which  the  gentleman 
drew.  First  I  ask  the  two  gentlemen  to  examine 
this  little  table." 

The  two  friends  looked  at  it  carefully.  It  was 
very  simple  in  construction ;  it  had  three  light  steel 


154  EDGED    TOOLS. 

legs,  and  it  had  a  top  of  thick  plate-glass.  They 
declared  themselves  quite  satisfied. 

Monsieur  Blitzini  turned  to  the  extinguisher,  and 
as  he  stood  beside  it  he  was  at  least  eighteen  inches 
less  in  height  than  it  was. 

"  Please  examine  this  also,"  he  said,  tapping  it 
with  his  finger.  "You  will  see  that  it  is  very  light, 
that  it  is  made  of  several  thicknesses  of  tough 
paper,  and  that  there  are  no  holes  in  it  through 
which  I  can  see." 

Wyoming  lifted  the  cone  up  and  held  it  against 
the  light,  and  he  saw  no  holes  in  it.  Then  he  and 
Cameron  scrutinized  the  external  surface  thorough 
ly.  At  last  they  declared  themselves  satisfied 
again. 

"Very  well,"  said  Monsieur  Blitzini;  "then  we 
will  proceed  at  once.  You  understand  what  is  to 
be  done  ?  I  am  to  be  covered  for  exactly  thirty 
seconds,  during  which  time  one  of  you  is  to  take  a 
card  from  the  pack,  show  it  to  the  audience,  and 
return  it,  leaving  the  pack  in  exactly  its  original 
position." 

The  two  friends  told  him  that  they  understood 
what  was  required  of  them. 

"Then  here  goes,"  said  Monsieur  Blitzini,  and 
although  he  was  obviously  trying  to  keep  his  voice 


EDGED   TOOLS.  155 

steady,  there  was  a  distinct  tremor  in  it.  Placing 
both  hands  on  the  little  table,  he  sprang  upon  it 
and  stood  erect.  Wyoming  and  Cameron  mounted 
on  chairs,  one  on  his  right  and  one  on  his  left ;  they 
raised  the  huge  cone  from  the  floor  and  slowly 
lowered  it  over  him.  It  rested  lightly  on  the  rim 
of  the  little  table. 

Wyoming  drew  out  his  watch  and  began  counting 
the  seconds.  Cameron  stepped  down  from  his 
chair,  crossed  to  the  large  table  in  the  centre  of  the 
stage,  selected  a  card  from  the  pack,  glanced  at  it, 
showed  it,  returned  it,  and  replaced  the  pack  as  it 
was.  Then  he  walked  back  and  mounted  his  chair 
again.  Wyoming  had  stood  motionless,  with  his 
eyes  on  the  dial  and  his  ears  strained  to  catch  the 
slightest  sound. 

At  last  he  returned  his  watch  to  his  pocket,  say 
ing,  "Time's  up!  " 

Then  he  and  Cameron,  amid  a  dead  silence  in  the 
hall,  seized  the  extinguisher  and  lifted  it  slowly. 
As  it  rose  in  the  air,  they  heard  a  sudden  murmur 
of  astonishment  among  the  audience.  In  another 
second,  as  they  lowered  the  light  paper  cone  to  the 
stage,  they  saw  the  cause  of  this.  The  little  table 
whereon  Monsieur  Blitzini  had  stood  was  empty. 
The  magician  had  vanished ;  he  had  gone  without 


156  EDGED    TOOLS. 

a  sign  or  a  sound :  it  was  as  though  he  had  melted 
into  air. 

Wyoming  and  Cameron  examined  the  extin 
guisher,  but  it  was  no  heavier  than  it  had  been,  nor 
was  the  little  table  in  any  way  altered.  The  spec 
tators  clapped  and  shouted  with  delight  at  this  most 
original  trick.  The  two  friends  looked  at  each 
other  in  surprise.  After  exchanging  puzzled  glances, 
they  stepped  down  from  the  chairs  on  which  they 
had  been  standing,  and  again  examined  the  little 
table  and  the  cone.  But  they  found  no  clue  to  the 
disappearance  of  the  magician. 

Then  there  arose  from  the  body  of  the  hall  a 
loud  cry  for  the  conjurer  to  appear.  It  was  a  hearty 
and  genuine  call  such  as  few  of  the  strolling  actors 
who  have  starred  at  the  Pavilion  had  ever  been 
honored  with. 

"Fetch  him  out,"  said  Wyoming  to  Cameron; 
"  you  know  the  topography  of  the  place." 

Cameron  crossed  at  once  to  the  two  dressing- 
rooms  on  the  right  of  the  stage,  whence  Monsieur 
Blitzini  had  issued  at  the  beginning  of  the  perform 
ance.  Wyoming  heard  him  knocking,  and  then 
opening  a  door.  He  said  a  few  words  to  the  impa 
tient  spectators,  suggesting  that  they  should  give 


EDGED   TOOLS.  157 

Monsieur  Blitzini  breathing-time  after  his  extraor 
dinary  exertions. 

The  audience  took  this  in  good  part.  There  was 
a  cessation  of  the  loud  shouts  and  tumultuous  ap 
plause.  Then  in  a  minute  Cameron  came  back, 
looking  flushed  and  scared. 

"  He's  not  there,"  he  whispered  to  Wyoming. 

"  Then  where  is  he  ?  "  asked  the  American,  star 
tled  and  with  a  sinking  heart. 

"  I  don't  know.  I've  searched  the  stage  and  the 
two  dressing-rooms  and  the  short  passages,  and 
I'm  sure  he  is  not  here." 

"  How  could  he  get  out  ?  You  told  me  there 
was  no  stage-door." 

"  And  there  is  no  space  under  the  stage  where  he 
could  hide.  I  do  not  understand  it  at  all.  Perhaps 
your  spooks — 

But  here  Cameron  was  interrupted  by  impatient 
cries  from  the  audience,  who  wanted  to  see  the 
conjurer. 

Wyoming  stepped  forward  to  the  centre  of  the 
stage,  and  made  a  neat  little  speech  to  the  specta 
tors,  in  the  course  of  which  he  said  that  Monsieur 
Blitzini  had  evidently  determined  that  his  last  trick 
should  be  a  complete  success  and  a  total  surprise, 
and  that  to  this  end  he  had  chosen  to  vanish.  He 


158  EDGED   TOOLS. 

concluded  by  expressing  his  belief  that  they  all  ap 
preciated  the  remarkable  skill  and  address  that 
Monsieur  Blitzini  had  revealed  that  evening. 

The  audience  gave  Wyoming  a  round  of  applause, 
and  broke  up  in  high  good-humor. 

The  two  friends  returned  to  their  hotel,  musing 
much  and  saying  little. 

"  Do  you  understand  the  deep  damnation  of  his 
taking  off  ? "  asked  Wyoming,  as  they  parted  for 
the  night. 

"  Not  the  least  bit.     Do  you  ?  " 

"No." 

At  breakfast  the  next  morning  Cameron  passed 
the  Witherington  Daily  Times  across  the  table  to 
Wyoming,  and  asked  him  to  read  the  final  para 
graph  of  the  local  reporter's  account  of  the  strange 
events  of  the  preceding  evening. 

"  Whether  Mons.  Blitzini,"  so  this  paragraph  be 
gan,  "  derives  his  extraordinary  command  over 
legerdemain,  as  our  lively  neighbors  call  it,  from 
the  abnormal  sources  set  forth  in  his  advertisement, 
or  no,  is  a  philosophical  conundrum  upon  which  we 
need  not  enter  now.  Crcdat  Judesus  Apellcs.  But 
besides  his  being  a  juggler  of  no  mean  proficiency, 
he  is  undoubtedly  a  humorist  of  the  first  water. 
Trick  after  trick  was  transmogrified  in  the  most 


EDGED   TOOLS.  159 

whimsical  and  facetious  fashion,  and  the  admirable 
facial  powers  which  Mons.  Blitzini  exhibited  in  de 
picting  emotions  of  surprise  and  consternation,  con 
tributed  not  a  little  to  this  effect.  He  well  deserved 
the  applause  lavished  on  him  continuously,  and  the 
excitement  of  the  intelligent  and  brilliant  audience 
knew  no  bounds  when  the  extinguisher,  which 
played  an  important  part  in  the  last  trick,  was  re 
moved,  and  Mons.  Blitzini  was  found  to  have  van 
ished  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  We  can  confi 
dently  recommend  all  who  like  an  exhibition  of 
finished  skill  and  a  hearty  laugh  to  attend  Mons. 
Blitzini's  second  performance,  advertised  in  our 
columns  for  to-night.  We  hope,  however,  that  on 
this  occasion  he  will  not  carry  his  invisibility  so  far 
as  to  refuse  appearing  to  receive  the  plaudits  of  the 
admiring  audience  he  has  so  cleverly  amused." 

Wyoming  read  this  carefully,  then  he  laid  the 
paper  on  the  table  and  said :  "  This  reporter  seems 
to  be  a  good  many  kinds  of  a  fool." 

"  I  suppose  we  shall  go  to-night  to  see  Monsieur 
Blitzini's  second  performance  ?  "  asked  Cameron. 

"  Of  course,"  was  the  American's  short  reply. 


i6o  EDGED    TOOLS. 


CHAPTER   II.       • 

MONSIEUR   BLITZINI'S   SECOND   PERFORMANCE. 

MONSIEUR  BLITZINI'S  second  performance  never 
took  place. 


MATED   BY   MAGIC 

(In  Collaboration  with  Walter  I  ferries  Pollock.} 


n 


MATED  BY  MAGIC. 

A   STORY   WITH    A    POSTSCRIPT. 

I. 

THE   STORY. 

WHEN  Steele  Wyoming  arrived  at  his  customary 
apartments  in  Half  Moon  Street,  Piccadilly,  one 
morning  early  in  June,  he  found  a  telegram  awaiting 
him  from  Cecil  Cameron.  As  was  his  wont,  Wy 
oming,  having  left  New  York  about  the  ist  of  May 
on  a  steamer  of  the  French  line,  had  been  spend 
ing  a  month  in  Paris,  rambling  through  the  Salon, 
going  to  all  the  many  smaller  exhibitions,  seeing  all 
the  shows  of  all  sorts,  from  the  Theatre  Francais 
to  Neuilly  Fair,  and  giving  himself  up  to  the  lazy 
enjoyment  a  cultivated  American  can  always  attain 
in  the  city  by  the  Seine.  But  when  the  race  for  the 
Grand  Prix  had  been  run,  and  when  the  theatres 
began  to  close  their  doors,  he  wrote  over  to  London 
asking  that  his  rooms  be  made  ready  ;  and  about  the 
time  when  the  Queen's  birthday  is  celebrated,  Wy 
oming  took  the  night  train  and  arrived  in  London 
before  the  city  by  the  Thames  was  yet  awake. 


1 64  MATED  BY  MAGIC. 

Early  as  it  was,  the  telegram  from  Cecil  Cameron 
had  arrived  before  him.  While  his  trunks  were 
being  taken  into  his  room,  he  tore  open  the  brown 
envelope  and  read  this  message: 

"  Steelc  Wyoming,  51  Half  Moon  Street,  Piccadilly. 

"  Welcome,  Rosicrucian  Brother !  I  want  you  to  call 
spooks  from  the  vasty  deep.  Lunch  at  Babel  Club  at  one. 
You  hear  my  horn?  CECIL  CAMERON." 

Wyoming  held  the  telegram  in  his  hand  for  a 
moment. 

"  That  man  makes  me  tired,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"with  his  mania  for  trying  to  talk  American.  Why 
can't  he  be  content  with  his  own  insular  and  pa 
rochial  dialect?  But  he's  a  good  fellow,  for  all  that." 

The  American's  face  was  even  more  solemn  than 
usual  as  he  laid  the  dispatch  on  the  table. 

"  I  wonder  what  mischief  he  is  up  to  now,"  was 
his  reflection.     "  Raising  spooks  is  always  fun,  how 
ever,  and  he  can  count  me  in." 

So  it  was  that  Wyoming  went  to  the  Babel  Club 
to  meet  his  friend  at  the  appointed  hour.  The 
Babel  Club,  as  all  must  know,  was  founded  as  a 
place  of  meeting  for  men  who  could  speak  at  least 
three  modern  languages.  Cecil  Cameron,  proud  of 
his  proficiency,  offered  the  American  language  as 
one  of  his  three.  As  he  spoke  French  and  German 


MATED  BY  MAGIC.  165 

in  addition  to  English,  he  was  admitted.  To  pre 
vent  a  confusion  of  tongues,  there  \vas  an  unwritten 
law  of  the  club  by  which  a  member  making  use  of 
any  foreign  word  was  fined  elevenpence  halfpenny. 

As  Steele  Wyoming  was  about  to  take  his  seat 
at  the  little  table  in  the  bow  window  which  juts  out 
into  Piccadilly,  Cecil  Cameron  entered  the  dining- 
room. 

"  How  are  you,  old  man  ?  "  asked  the  American. 

"  I  am  able  to  sit  up  and  take  nourishment,"  re 
plied  the  Englishman.  "  And  how  are  you  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  the  better  for  the  privilege  of  listening 
to  your  vain  efforts  to  mimic  our  noble  American 
language,"  was  Wyoming's  prompt  reply.  "  Why 
are  you  not  content  with  the  dialect  spoken  by  the 
inhabitants  of  Great  Britain  and  her  colonial  de 
pendencies  ?  " 

"  Because  I  prefer  the  pictorial  freedom  of  speech 
which  echoes  over  the  boundless  prairies  of  the 
mighty  West,"  Cameron  returned. 

"Well,"  said  Wyoming,  with  a  weary  sigh,  "  push 
forward  to  your  own  destruction.  Linguistic  pit 
falls  are  on  all  sides  of  you.  No  man  can  speak 
American  who  is  not  born  in  the  purple  of  Ameri 
can  sovereignty.  So  I  forgive  you  ;  and  I  may  as 
well  confess  that  I'd  liever  hear  an  energetic  Amer- 


1 66  MATED  fir  MAGIC. 

icanism,  now  and  again,  than  the  enervating  Briti 
cisms  which  besprinkle  the  speech  of  most  of  you 
fellows  over  here.  Now  drive  on  your  donkey-cart 
and  tell  me  about  the  spirits." 

"  Do  you  know  my  Australian  cousin,  Frank 
Hardy  ?  "  asked  Cameron. 

"  No,"  the  American  replied.  "  Do  you  want  to 
scare  up  a  spook  or  two  for  him  ?  " 

"  Frank  Hardy  is  in  love  with  the  only  daughter 
of  J.  Bulstrode-Travis,  Esq.,  of  Reclrose  Hall, 
Flintshire." 

"Then  he  doesn't  need  anybody  to  raise  his 
spirits,  I  take  it,"  ventured  the  American. 

"  Frank's  all  right,"  Cameron  returned;  "he's  all 
wool  and  a  yard  wide  !  " 

"  Has  the  girl  gone  back  on  him  ?  "  asked  Wy 
oming. 

"  No,"  said  the  Englishman.  "  Lavinia  is  as  much 
in  love  with  Frank  as  Frank  is  with  her." 

"  Well,  then  ?  " 

"  There  is  the  cruel  parient.  He  is  worth  .£30,- 
ooo  a  year  and  Frank  hasn't  a  red  cent." 

"  Then  he'd  better  pass  in  his  checks,  hadn't  he  ?  " 
Wyoming  inquired,  dropping  into  American  slang, 
as  he  did  inevitably  when  he  talked  to  Cameron. 

"  Here  is  where  we  can  help.     The  young  people 


MATED   BY  MAGIC.  167 

have  not  dared  to  tell  the  old  man  the  state  of  their 
feelings.  He  suspects  nothing.  He  is  very  ambi 
tious  for  his  daughter.  He  would  like  her  to  be  at 
least  a  countess.  But  he  is  also  a  little  daft  on  the 
subject  of  spiritualism,  and  he  has  been  going  in  for 
fads  like — 

"  One  moment,  if  you  please,  Cecil,"  interrupted 
Wyoming.  "As  I  warned  you,  the  linguistic  man 
trap  has  you  by  the  heel.  '  To  go  in  for  '  and  '  fad  ' 
are  Briticisms  of  the  most  British  kind." 

"  I  know  it,"  Cameron  admitted  sorrowfully. 
"  But  yours  is  such  a  difficult  tongue  to  acquire. 
Where  was  I  ?  " 

"  You  were  saying  that  the  girls  father  was  a  man 
of  many  left-handed  ideas." 

"  That's  it  exactly.  On  some  subjects  he  is  like 
the  rest  of  us,  and  on  others  he.  is  very  eccentric," 
the  Englishman  continued. 

"  And  in  mechanics,"  said  the  American,  "  the 
eccentric  is  often  very  near  a  crank." 

"  In  some  ways  he  is  cranky  indeed,"  Cameron 
replied.  "  He  is  an  enthusiastic  chess-player  for 
one  thing — though  he  doesn't  play  remarkably." 

"  But  what  have  I  to  do  with  this  estimable 
country  gentleman  ?  "  asked  the  American. 

"  Only  this.     Mr.  Bulstrode-Travis  is  a  fatalist, 


1 68  MATED  BY  MAGIC. 

a  believer  in  signs  and  wonders,  a  practitioner  of 
thought-reading,  an  interpreter  of  dreams,  and  so 
forth.  Now,  Frank  knew  that  I  was  a  student  of 
modern  magic  and  that  I  took  no  stock  in  spookical 
research.  So  he  came  to  me  and  confided  his 
plight,  and  asked  me  to  help  him  out.  Frank  thinks 
that  I  can  show  the  old  man  some  strange  marvel, 
and  then  ring  in  on  him  a  prediction  of  some  sort 
pointing  to  Frank  as  the  only  proper  husband  for 
Lavinia." 

"  Work  the  oracle,  in  short  ?  " 

"  Precisely.  And  I  have  said  I  would ;  and  I 
want  you  to  help  me  as  a  member  of  the  Rosicrucian 
Brotherhood.  Mr.  Bulstrode-Travis  has  been  up 
in  town  for  a  week,  and  although  he  has  two  old- 
fogy  clubs  of  his  own,  the  Mausoleum  and  the 
Sarcophagus,  I  got  him  put  down  here  as  a  guest, 
and  I  coaxed  him  to  come  here,  and  I  prevailed  on 
two  or  three  good-natured  fellows  to  play  chess  with 
him  and  get  beaten,  so  the  old  boy  drops  in  here 
pretty  freely.  He  and  I  are  excellent  friends.  We 
talk  over  the  mysteries  of  magic  and  thought-trans 
ference,  and  I  am  properly  serious.  He  has  asked 
me  to  run  down  with  him  to  Redrose  Hall  to  spend 
Saturday  and  Sunday.  I  have  spoken  to  him  about 
you,  representing  that  you  had  been  a  profound 


MATED  BY  MAGIC.  169 

student  of  strange  rites;  I  said  that  I  had  been  told 
that  you  had  investigated  the  Eleusinian  mysteries; 
I  knew  you  had  been  present  at  a  Voodoo  exorcising ; 
and  I  had  seen  you  extract  extraordinary  informa 
tion  as  to  the  future  by  means  of  the  sortes  Virgiliance. 
In  fact,  he  takes  you  for  a  boss  spook-stalker." 

"  Well  ?  "  asked  the  American,  with  an  expression 
of  solemnity,  not  to  say  gloom. 

"  If  he  comes  here  to  lunch  to-day,  we  drop  into 
a  chat  together;  and  if  he  doesn't  ask  you  down  to 
the  Hall  to  spend  Saturday  and  Sunday,  then  I 
haven't  any  savvy." 

"  Well  ?  "  repeated  Wyoming. 

"  And  once  down  there  we'll  raise  the  devil  for 
him,  or  the  Witch  of  Endor,  or  the  Witches  of  Mac 
beth ;  and  we'll  make  them  prophesy  the  union  of 
Lavinia  and  Frank." 

"I  see,"  said  the  American;  "and  it's  a  very 
pretty  scheme  if  it  works — but — 

"  Hush  !  "  Cameron  interrupted.  •  "  Here  he  is !  " 

The  broad  door  of  the  dining-room  had  opened 
to  give  passage  to  a  handsome,  portly  old  gentle 
man,  bearing  his  sixty  years  bravely.  This  was  Mr. 
Bulstrode-Travis.  Cameron  introduced  Wyoming, 
successfully  suggesting  by  his  manner  that  he  was 
presenting  a  man  of  marvel. 


1 70  MATED  BY  MAGIC. 

Mr.  Bulstrode-Travis  sat  down  to  lunch  with 
them,  and  before  long  the  three  were  in  full  cry  over 
mystery  and  magic.  Wyoming  and  Cameron  played 
into  each  other's  hands  so  as  to  hint  dimly  to  the 
old  gentleman  that  they  were  in  some  strange  and 
secret  way  familiar  with  the  personalities  of  Corne 
lius  Agrippa,  Paracelsus,  Faust,  Robert  Houdin, 
the  Egyptian  magicians,  Count  Cagliostro,  Arbaces, 
ojid  various  other  engaging  persons.  Cameron  re 
lated  a  tale  which,  as  it  happened,  he  had  actually 
heard  from  an  imaginative  doctor,  who  said  he  had 
lived  as  a  medical  student  in  Bulwer-Lytton's 
haunted  house  in  Orchard  Street,  and  that  among 
other  things  they  never  wanted  ("  needed  "  inter 
jected  Wyoming  with  soft  correction)  any  artificial 
light  at  night-fall,  as  an  Unseen  Power  kindly  pro 
vided  it.  Wyoming  capped  the  story  with  an 
American  tale  of  his  own,  the  incidents  of  which  he 
said  had  actually  befallen  him.  Then  they  alluded 
casually,  but  frequently,  to  the  wonders  they  had 
sometimes  worked  in  conjunction.  Mr.  Bulstrode- 
Travis  was  in  an  ecstasy  at  the  idea  of  such  strange 
doings;  he  burned  to  see  what  they  had  seen  and 
what  they  could  accomplish ;  and  therefore  it  was 
with  peculiar  cordiality  that  he  asked  Wyoming  to 
accompany  Cameron  on  his  visit  to  Redrose  Hall. 


MATED  BY  MAGIC.  171 

The  invitation  was  accepted  with  unaffected  prompt 
ness,  and  Wyoming,  thinking,  unwisely  perhaps,  to 
add  a  touch,  said  mournfully: 

"  We  could  have  shown  you  more  had  poor  Mon 
sieur  Blitzini  been  here." 

"  But  you  know,  Steele,"  replied  Cameron,  in  a 
frivolous  moment,  "  it's  no  good  wishing — he's  gone 
up  the  flume  !  " 

"  Ah,"  rejoined  Wyoming  dryly,  "  he  really  speaks 
American  like  a  native — sometimes." 

Redrose  Hall  stands  on  high  ground,  encircled  or 
supported  by  lawns  and  a  pretty  succession  of  fish 
ponds.  Part  of  the  house  is  really  Elizabethan,  the 
other  part  is  skilfully  arranged  to  match  it.  A  car 
riage-drive  sweeps  up  to  a  fine  porch,  through  which 
one  passes  into  a  hall  hung  with  armor,  thence  into 
an  anteroom,  at  the  left  corner  and  end  of  which 
are  respectively  the  dining-room  and  the  drawing- 
room.  In  front  of  the  drawing-room  runs  a  terrace 
with  a  plashing  fountain.  At  the  further  end  of  the 
drawing-room  is  a  conservatory  leading  to  the  hang 
ing-gardens,  and  at  right  angles  to  this  the  double 
door  of  the  library.  Coming  out  of  the  library  into 
the  anteroom  one  sees  opposite  the  drawing-room 
a  wide  staircase  leading  to  a  gallery  of  bedrooms. 


17*  MATED  BY  MAGIC. 

Mr.  Bulstrode-Travis,  whose  fussy  and  interjec- 
tional  manner  belied  his  appearance,  which  was 
that  of  the  fine  old  English  gentleman,  conducted 
our  two  friends  to  the  drawing-room,  with  much 
pleasing  pr.'ittle  about  his  small  but  excellent  col 
lection  of  armor  and  weapons,  and  about  his  library 
of  magical  and  cabalistic  books  which,  handsomely 
arranged  in  glass  cases,  adorned  the  walls  of  the 
anteroom. 

"  Here  is  a  pretty  edition  of  Gabriel  Hervey,  eh  ?  " 
he  would  say,  or  "  Do  but  look,  Mr.  Wyoming,  at 
this  Reginald  Scot,  ha  ?  " 

The  two  friends  lingered  awhile  in  the  library, 
where  Frank  Hardy  soon  joined  them.  Mr.  Bul 
strode-Travis  and  Wyoming  chatted  about  books, 
leaving  Hardy  and  Cameron  to  a  game  of  piquet. 

In  the  drawing  room,  whither  the  host  soon  con 
ducted  the  American,  they  found    Miss   Bulstrode- 
Travis,   to    whom   Wyoming  took   a   great    fancy. 
Among  the  other  guests  were  Sir  Kensington  Gower, 
K.C.B.,  and   Lady   Gower,   Lord    Luine     a    great 
traveller  who  had   been   much   in    India  and   took 
stock,   as   Cameron  would  have  said,  in  fakirs  and 
such  like — and   Mrs.  Vendale,  a  slight,  short,  fan 
tastic  creature   who  believed,  or  affected  to  believe, 
in  Khoot-Hoomi. 


MATED  BY  MAGIC.  i?3 

In  the  drawing-room  the  conversation  was  of  rain 
and  fine  time,  but  at  dinner  it  soon  took  on  it  a  color 
of  magical  lore.  Wyoming  was  seated  next  to 
Lavinia,  and  they  got  on  capitally.  The  English 
girl  thought  the  American  amusing,  and  the  Ameri 
can  found  the  English  girl  bright  and  sympathetic. 
After  dinner  the  party  moved  to  the  conservatory, 
where  coffee  was  served  and  where  smoking  was  al 
ways  permitted, 

Mrs.  Vendale  asked  Lord  Luine  if  the  wonders 
of  the  Indian  magicians  were  authentic — "  For  my 
part,  I  do  not  doubt  it ,  but  perhaps  they  use  black 
magic,  and  that  would  be  horrible." 

Luine  replied  that  he  cared  much  more  about 
tracking  a  tiger  than  about  seeing  a  trick  or  a  por 
tent.  "  But,  don't  you  know,  I  have  seen  those 
fellows  do  things  that  no  person  "  (he  was  a  Scotch 
man)  "  could  explain." 

Then  he  recounted  the  mango  trick  and  the  bas 
ket  trick,  and  added  that  the  Indian  conjurers  had 
nothing  on  practically  but  a  waist-cloth,  and  how 
could  they  hide  things  ? 

Cameron  and  Wyoming  looked  at  each  other. 

Then  Luine  related  how  he  had  seen  a  man  climb 
up  a  rope  until  you  lost  sight  of  him,  and  he  never 
came  down  again.  Luine  was  a  man  of  absolute 


174  MATED    /?)'   MA  QIC. 

veracity,  but  at  this  the  two  did  not  look  at  each 
other. 

There  was  much  serious  conversation  on  this, 
broken  only  by  a  frivolous  remark  of  Cameron's  to 
Wyoming. 

"  Say,  Steele,  that  Louis  XV.  clock  reminds  me 
of  your  watch  that  I  had  to  wrap  in  a  blanket  at 
night  when  we  travelled  together  because  it  ticked 
so  loud.  Have  you  got  it  yet  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  have  it,"  said  Wyoming,  "but  don't  let 
your  mind  wander." 

Mr.  Bulstrode-Travis's  appetite  for  the  wonderful 
began  to  grow  by  what  it  fed  on,  and  he  made  such 
broken  requests  as  "  Couldn't  you,  hey  ? — wouldn't 
it  be  possible — what  ? — when  two  people  of  such  re 
markable  powers,  and,  as  is  evident,  so  completely  en 
rapport  with  each  other — it  seems  a  pity,  you  know." 

The  two  friends  made  excuses  and  demurs  until 
the  old  gentleman  was  near  to  dancing  with  unsat 
isfied  expectation,  and  then  when  the  rest  of  the 
party  joined  themselves  to  Mr.  Bulstrode-Travis  in 
polite  importunity,  they  consented,  with  a  show  of 
giving  way  gracefully,  to  see  if  the  conditions  would 
enable  them  to  accomplish  anything. 

"  Of  course,  you  have  heard,"  said  Wyoming, 
"  about  what  is  called  thought  reading  ?  " 


MATED   BY  MAGIC.  175 

"  A  very  primitive  form,"  added  Cameron,  and 
went  on  to  say,  "  Steele,  will  you  try  if  our  old  ex 
periment  together  can  be  worked  ?  That  is  to  say,  I 
will  leave  the  room,  and  shall  try  to  gather  from 
your  magnetism,  without  word  or  touch,  what  action 
the  company  may  wish  me  to  perform." 

Mr.  Bulstrode-Travis's  eyes  opened  wide  at  this, 
and  the  suggestion  was  received  with  such  de 
light  that  Mrs.  Vendale's  "  they  do  say  that  the 
Chelahs —  "  perished  unachieved. 

When  Cameron  left  the  room  there  was  a  com 
plete  silence  for  a  moment. 

"Seems  to  me,"  said  Luine,  "we'd  better  decide 
upon  what  we  want  the  noble  sportsman  to  do. 
Finding  a  pin  is  played  out.  Set  him  something 
more  difficult." 

"  Suppose,"  said  Mrs.  Vendale,  with  the  tone  of 
a  languishing  spectre,  "  suppose  we  were  to  move 
that  beautiful  vase  up  to  the  blue  room,  and  will 
him  to  find  it  and  bring  it  down  again  ?  " 

"  Might  break  it  if  he  found  it,"  said  Sir  Ken 
sington. 

"  Do  you  think,  Sir  Kensington — hey  ?  "  answered 
the  host,  "  that  I  value  a  vase  one  penny  in  com 
parison  with  the  interest  of  science  ?  " 


176  MATED   BY  MAGIC. 

"  Don't  spoil  the  fun,  my  clear,"  added  Lady 
Govver,  a  pleasing  and  vivacious  person. 

"  Is  that,  then,  what  you  all  wish  ?  "  said  Wyo 
ming,  and  was  answered  by  universal  assent. 

"  Now,"  Wyoming  went  on,  "  let  me  carry  the 
vase  to  the  blue  room  and  hide  it  somewhere  in 
concert  with  Lord  Luine,  who  will  watch  that  there 
may  be  no  possible  collusion  between  my  friend 
and  myself." 

Lord  Luine  rose  to  accompany  him. 

'  Add  one  thing  more,"  said  Wyoming.  "Cam 
eron  ought  to  be  blindfolded,  the  lights  must  be  put 
out,  and  only  one  of  our  party  must  carry  a  dark 
lantern  to  prevent  our  stumbling.  He  won't  stum 
ble  if  it  succeeds." 

Upon  this  Wyoming  took  the  vase  in  his  hands 
and  left  the  conservatory,  accompanied  by  Lord 
Luine.  They  went  to  the  blue  room,  and  after 
much  deliberation  Wyoming  placed  the  vase  on  a 
bracket  so  high  on  the  wall  that  a  tall  man  could 
barely  reach  it.  . 

As  they  went  out  Luine  stopped  at  the  door  and 
said,  "  But  look  here,  he  will  break  the  vase  if  it's 
so  high  up  as  that." 

"No,  sir,"  said  Wyoming,  "  but  to  make  assur 
ance  doubly  sure  I'll  measure  it  once  again."  lie 


MATED  BY  MAGIC.  177 

took  three  steps  back  to  the  bracket,  picked  up  a 
small  pin-cushion  from  a  table  close  by,  and  with 
some  difficulty  placed  it  on  the  bracket. 

"  Cameron  is  not  so  tall  as  you  are,"  said  Luine. 

"  No  matter/'  Wyoming  rejoined,  "  he  will  not 
break  it." 

Then  they  went  back  to  the  conservatory,  and 
Cameron  was  called  in.  Amid  intense  silence  Wy 
oming  looked  him  full  in  the  eyes  for  about  two 
minutes,  when  there  stole  over  Cameron  a  dazed 
yet  awakened  look  of  a  curious  kind. 

"Hush!"  cried  Wyoming,  "the  charm  works. 
Now  let  him  go ;  we  will  follow  after  at  some  ten 
yards'  distance." 

"But  if  he  falls  and  hurts  himself?"  said  Sir 
Kensington. 

"Hush!"  said  Wyoming,  authoritatively.  "He 
will  not  fall.  Now  !  " 

Cameron,  who  had  been  standing  motionless, 
suddenly  strode  to  the  door,  opened  it,  went  straight 
through  the  drawing-room,  opened  that  door,  and 
walked  into  the  now  darkened  anteroom.  Here 
he  paused  awhile.  Frank  Hardy,  holding  the  dark 
lantern,  with  silent  gestures  kept  back  the  eager 
followers. 

At  last  Cameron  opened  the  library  door,  walked 


178  MATED  BY  MAGIC. 

round,  and  came  straight  out  again,  and  made  im 
mediately  for  the  staircase,  mounted  it,  and  passed 
into  the  gallery  until  he  reached  the  blue  room,  of 
which  he  at  once  opened  the  door.  Then  were 
there  murmurs  from  those  who  watched  him  like 
those  to  be  heard  when  fireworks  are  let  off.  As 
soon  as  he  had  opened  this  door  Cameron  shut  it 
again,  and  stood  outside  it  in  hesitation.  Then  he 
went  down  the  gallery  and  tried  every  door  with 
intense  deliberation.  When  he  had  done  this  he 
stood  again  as  one  in  doubt,  and  then  again  ran  as 
hard  as  he  could  to  the  blue  room,  opened  the  door, 
and  rushed  in.  Hardy  followed  with  the  lantern, 
holding  it  so  that  those  behind  could  see  what  hap 
pened.  What  happened  was  this:  Cameron  went 
to  the  bracket,  put  his  left  hand  against  the  wall, 
straightened  himself  up  as  if  by  a  great  effort,  and 
just  reached  the  base  of  the  vase  with  his  right 
hand. 

"  He'll  break  it,"  whispered  Sir  Kensington,  upon 
whom  his  wife  turned  a  look  of  scorn,  which  missed 
its  effect  because  he  did  not  see  it. 

Very  carefully  and  slowly  Cameron  took  down 
the  vase  without  the  slightest  appearance  of  risk ;  but 
when  he  had  it  safe,  as  it  seemed,  in  both  his  hands, 
he  shivered  and  tottered  so  that  Wyoming,  who  was 


MATED  BY  MAGIC.  179 

nearest  to  him,  rushed  forward  to  save  the  vase, 
and  supporting  it  with  one  hand  laid  the  other 
heavily  on  Cameron's  shoulder,  as  if  to  infuse  new 
magnetism  into  him. 

From  that  moment  Cameron's  descent  to  the 
conservatory  was  a  triumphal  march.  There  was 
no  longer  any  question  of  managing  the  dark  lan 
tern,  and  people  hesitated  not  to  wonder  in  loud 
voices  if  he  would  restore  the  vase  to  its  original 
place — which  he  did  at  once  and  without  hesitation. 

Having  completed  his  appointed  task,  Cameron 
sank  exhausted  in  an  arm-chair,  gazing  into  vacancy, 
and  then  quite  suddenly  gave  a  shiver,  sat  up, 
looked  round  him,  and  fixed  his  eyes  interroga 
tively  on  Wyoming,  who  answered  with  a  quiet  nod. 
Then  the  silence  which  had  fallen  on  the  company 
when  Cameron  sat  down  was  broken,  and  the 
chorus  of  comments,  questions,  answers,  expressions 
of  admiration,  were  even  as  the  "  confused  noise 
without "  of  the  drama.  This  lasted  some  time, 
until  the  company,  like  tigers  having  tasted  blood 
(or,  to  make  the  simile  more  exact,  like  the  people 
without  consciences  who  encore  singers),  began  to 
suggest  "  if  it  were  possible,"  "  Mr.  Cameron  must 
be  tired,  and  yet  if,"  and  so  forth,  and  so  forth. 
One  young  lady,  who  seemed  not  fully  to  under- 


l8o  MATED  BY  MAGIC. 

stand  the  novelty  of  what  she  had  just  seen,  wanted 
to  know  if  Mr.  Cameron  could  do  a  card  trick  next- 
she  doted  on  tricks  with  cards. 

"  That  gives  me  an  idea,"  said  Wyoming.  "  Cards 
suggest  chess,  you  know.  Have  you  a  chess-board 
in  the  house?" 

"  Chess-boards — hey  ?  "  said  Mr.  Bulstrode-Travis, 
"  heaps  of  'em — what  ? — how  many  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  One  will  be  enough,"  replied  Wyoming. 

"  What  is  it  for?"  asked  little  Mrs.  Vendale,  in 
tones  which  were  both  hard  and  caressing. 

Wyoming  refrained  from  saying  "  to  play  chess 
with,"  and  answered  instead,  "  You  will  see  directly. 
Does  any  one  present  besides  our  host  play 
chess  ?  " 

Luine  and  Sir  Kensington  answered  that  they 
played  a  little. 

"  That  is  enough,"  said  Wyoming. 

"  What  are  you  up  to  now  ?  "  Cameron  inquired. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do?"  asked  Mr.  Bul 
strode-Travis,  with  the  double  delight  in  the  antici 
pated  commingling  of  chess  and  mystery. 

"  I  don't  know  that  we  can  do  anything,"  replied 
the  American.  "  In  fact,  so  far  as  I  know,  nothing 
of  this  sort  has  ever  been  attempted  before. 
Thought-reading,  even  in  its  highest  phases,  requires 


MATED  BY  MAGIC.  181 

proximity,  and  the  test  I  propose  now  will  be  at  a 
distance  quite  unprecedented." 

"You  might  at  least  tell  me  what  you  are  driving 
at,"  said  Cameron. 

Wyoming  faced  him  suddenly.  "  Do  you  think 
we  could  communicate  to  each  other  the  moves  of 
a  game  of  chess  by  will-power  alone  ?"  he  said. 

"  I  see,"  Cameron  answered.  Then,  after  a  pause, 
he  added,  "  We  might  try  it." 

"  This  is  what  I  propose,  then,"  cried  Wyoming, 
"  to  have  the  board  on  this  table  here,  watched 
by  two  of  the  party,  while  a  third  makes  the 
moves." 

"  What  moves  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Vendale  again. 

"The  moves  which  will  be  conveyed  by  message 
from  Cameron  and  myself,  who  will  be  each  respec 
tively  shut  up  in  a  dark  room,  the  two  rooms  to  be 
as  far  from  each  other  as  possible." 

The  audacity  of  the  proposal  so  startled  the  as 
semblage  that  scarcely  anything  was  said  until  the 
arrangements  were  complete.  A  chess-board  was 
placed  on  the  table  in  the  centre  of  the  conserva 
tory,  and,  aided  by  Lavinia,  Mr.  Bulstrode-Travis 
nervously  arranged  the  pieces.  Then  he  took  an 

« 

arm-chair  alongside  the  table  and  sat  down  to  watch 
the  game. 


1 82  MATED  BY  MAGIC. 

"  I'll  give  you  the  choice  of  colors,  as  I  suggested 
the  game,"  said  Wyoming. 

"  I  try  to  act  like  a  white  man,  as  you  Americans 
say,"  Cameron  replied,  "and  so  I'll  take  them." 

"Very  well,"  Wyoming  returned.  "I'm  quite 
satisfied  with  the  black  men ;  the  colored  troops 
can  fight  nobly,  if  need  be." 

Then  Cameron  and  Wyoming  were  stationed  in 
darkened  rooms  ten  yards  or  more  apart,  while  one 
of  the  company  remained  with  each  of  them,  a  third 
standing  sentry  in  the  corridor  between. 

Luine,  who  was  with  Cameron,  came  back  to  the 
conservatory  and  made  the  first  move  for  White — 
Pawn  to  Queen's  Bishop's  fourth. 

At  this  unconventional  beginning  Mr.  Bulstrode- 
Travis  smiled  and  said,  "  Evidently  we  are  to  have 
a  surprise  opening." 

As  Luine  left  the  room  to  rejoin  Cameron,  Sir 
Kensington,  who  was  Wyoming's  messenger,  en 
tered  the  conservatory,  and  walking  to  the  table 
made  Black's  first  move,  Knight  to  Queen's  Bishop's 
third. 

"A  strange  attack  calls  for  strange  precautions," 
was  the  host's  comment  on  this. 

Having  made  the  move,  Sir  Kensington  returned 
to  Wyoming. 


MATED   BY  MAGIC.  183 

A  few  seconds  after  he  had  left  the  conservatory 
Luine  reappeared  and  made  White's  second  move, 
Queen  to  Bishop's  second. 

"  The  Queen  looks  out  at  the  window,"  said 
Lavinia,  smiling;  she  was  almost  as  interested  in 
the  game  as  her  father. 

After  Luine  had  disappeared,  Sir  Kensington  re 
turned,  bearing  Black's  retort,  Pawn  to  Queen's 
fourth. 

"Is  this  defence  or  defiance?"  queried  Frank 
Hardy,  leaning  over  Lavinia's  chair. 

Then  Luine  came  with  Cameron's  third  move, 
Knight  to  Queen's  Bishop's  third. 

"  Good  !  "  cried  Mr.  Bulstrode-Travis.  "  We 
shall  see  all  his  meaning  soon."  And  he  watched 
eagerly  the  departure  of  Cameron's  emissary  and 
the  arrival  of  Wyoming's,  who  moved  a  Black 
Knight  to  Queen's  fifth. 

"  Well,  he  takes  the  bull  by  the  horns,"  was  the 
instant  remark  of  the  chess  enthusiast. 

And  so  the  moves  followed,  without  any  commu 
nication  between  the  players,  who  remained  each 
in  his  dark  room,  never  speaking,  except  to  whisper 
to  his  companion  the  move  he  desired  to  have  made 
on  the  table  in  the  conservatory. 

"This  is  more  than  a  blindfold  game,"  said  Mr. 


1 84  MATED   RY  MAGIC, 

Bulstrode-Travis,  as  White's  fourth  move,  Queen 
to  Rook's  fourth,  was  made,  giving  check.  "  It  is 
a  double  blindfold  game,  complicated  by  the  strange 
and  altogether  mysterious  sympathy  or  intuition  or 
occult  influence  which  transmits  to  each  the  move 
the  other  has  made.  Easily  parried,"  he  cried,  as 
Black  sent  forward  a  Pawn  to  Queen's  Bishop's 
third. 

"  He  must  have  a  deep  motive,  but  I  don't  see  it," 
was  Mr.  Bulstrode-Travis's  remark  when  Luine 
made  White's  fifth  move,  Knight  to  Queen's  square. 
And  when  Sir  Kensington  promptly  appeared  and 
sent  forward  a  Pawn  to  Queen's  Knight's  fourth, 
Lavinia  -looked  at  her  father  in  surprise,  and  he 
answered  her  silent  query,  "  It's  either  courage  or 
impudence,  and  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  which.  I'm 
astonished  at  the  whole  affair.  I  think  the  game  is 
almost  as  wonderful  as  the  way  they  arc  playing  it." 

The  sixth  move  was  watched  with  an  increasing 
interest.  Luine  appeared,  and  the  White  Pawn 
took  the  Black  Pawn,  and  Luine  disappeared. 
Then  Sir  Kensington  appeared,  the  Black  Pawn 
went  to  Queen's  Bishop's  fourth,  and  Sir  Kensing 
ton  disappeared. 

"  Evidently  he  despises  the  attack,"  commented 
Mr.  Bulstrode-Travis,  who  was  leaning  forward  in 


MATED   BY  MAGIC.  185 

his  chair,  with  both  his  elbows  on  the  table  which 
held  the  chess-board. 

There  seemed  to  be  even  a  shorter  interval  than 
usual  after  Sir  Kensington  left  the  conservatory 
before  Luine  entered  it,  to  make  White's  seventh 
move,  Pawn  to  Knight's  sixth,  discovering  check. 
And  as  swiftly  came  Sir  Kensington  back  with 
Wyoming's  adroit  retort,  Bishop  to  Queen's  second. 

"Where  is  White's  Queen  to  go?"  asked  Mr. 
Bulstrode-Travis.  "  What  can  White  do  now — 
what  ?  " 

And  White  could  do  no  more  in  effect.  In  the 
next  move  the  White  Queen  was  taken,  and  then 
Luine  came  in  to  say  that  Mr.  Cameron  resigned 
the  game.  Lavinia  went  to  bear  the  news  of  his 
victory  to  Wryoming,  and  to  call  him  in  to  receive 
their  congratulations. 

"  It  is  the  most  wonderful  feat  I  ever  saw  ! " 
cried  Mr.  Bulstrode-Travis,  springing  up  from  his 
seat  with  excitement,  as  Cameron  came  back,  sum 
moned  by  Luine.  "  I  have  never  even  heard  of 
anything  like  it  !  Are  you  exhausted  by  the  ner 
vous  strain  ?" 

"  It  is  wearing  on  the  gray  matter  of  the  brain," 
Cameron  replied,  "  but  I  shall  get  my  breath  in  a 
minute  or  two." 


1 86  MATED    BY  MAGIC. 

"  And  you,  Mr.  Wyoming,"  said  the  host  to  the 
American,  who  returned  with  Lavinia.  "You  have 
played  an  absolutely  unprecedented  game  in  an 
absolutely  unprecedented  way.  I  confess  that  I 
don't  see  how  you  do  it --what  ! " 

"  Really,  I  don't  know  that  I  could  explain  it  ex 
actly  to  your  satisfaction,"  Wyoming  answered. 
"  I  suppose  I  can  say  that  it  is  a  reading  of  each 
other's  mind." 

"  It  must  be  a  great  convenience  to  be  able  to 
read  other  people's  minds,"  said  Lavinia.  "  I  think 
I  should  like  it." 

"  I'm  sure  that  you  would  never  find  anything 
but  pleasant  thoughts  toward  you,"  Wyoming  re 
turned. 

Her  father  was  already  moving  across  the  conser 
vatory  to  Cameron.  "  Thought-reading  applied  to 
chess  and  performed  under  test  conditions  which 
preclude  the  possibility  of  deception — that's  what 
I  call  it,"  he  said  with  oratorical  emphasis. 

"  Well,"  Cameron  replied  quietly,  "  you  may  call 
it  that." 

"  Is  your  friend  a  married  man  ? "  asked  Mr. 
Bulstrode-Travis,  suddenly  dropping  his  voice  into 
a  mysterious  whisper. 


MATED   BY   MAGIC.  187 

"Wyoming  !  indeed,  no;  he's  a  bachelor  of  the 
deepest  dye,"  Cameron  replied. 

"And  in  your  reading  of  his  thoughts  have  you 
yet  discovered  that  his  affections  are  engaged?' 
pursued  the  host. 

"  Why  ?     What  do  you  mean  ?  "  Cameron  asked. 

"  Look  there  !  "  said  Lavinia's  father,  with  a  ges 
ture  indicating  Wyoming  leaning  over  the  young 
lady  in  pleasant  conversation.  "  I  do  not  know 
that  I  should  object." 

"  Object  to  what  ? "  cried  Cameron  in  sudden 
alarm. 

"  Object  to  your  friend  for  a  son-in-law,"  said  Mr. 
Bulstrode-Travis.  "  He  seems  to  be  taken  with 
Lavinia." 

"  I  hope  not  !  "  ejaculated  Cameron.  Then,  re 
covering  himself,  he  added :  "  I  had  a  suspicion  that 
Frank  Hardy  was  rather  attentive  to  her." 

"  No  doubt,  no  doubt,"  said  Lavinia's  father ;  "  but 
I  do  not  think  she  thinks  of  him — and  that  is  what's 
important,  you  know." 

"  You  surprise  me,"  Cameron  continued.  "  I  had 
supposed  that  she  had  rather  a  liking  for  him." 

"  Did  you  read  that  in  her  mind  ? "  asked  her 
father  eagerly.  "  That  would  be  very  curious  in 
deed — what  ! " 


1 88  MATED  BY  MAGIC. 

"Yes,"  Cameron  rejoined  gravely;  "it  would  be 
very  curious  indeed."  Then  he  saw  his  chance. 
"  If  you  would  like  to  inquire  into  the  future — to 
consult  an  oracle,  in  fact — you  might  get  Wyoming 
to  do  the  sortes  Virgiliance  for  you." 

"  To  be  sure,"  cried  Mr.  Bulstrode-Travis.  "  You 
told  me  he  was  an  expert.  Do  you  know,  I  never 
saw  the  attempt  made." 

"  My  friend  has  a  method  of  his  own,  quite  differ 
ent  from  that  which  is  down  in  the  books,"  Cam 
eron  explained.  "I  say,  Steele,"  he  cried,  "Mr. 
Bulstrode-Travis  would  like  to  see  you  cast  the 
sortes" 

Wyoming  crossed  the  room  and  joined  them. 
"  And  what  is  the  question  to  which  you  seek  an 
answer  ?  "  he  asked. 

Mr.  Bulstrode-Travis  hesitated ;  but  Cameron, 
lowering  his  voice,  responded  for  him  :  "  The  others 
need  not  know  exactly  the  object  of  our  question, 
but  our  host  would  like  guidance  in  regard  to  his 
daughter's  future  husband." 

"  I  see,"  the  American  rejoined.     "  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Why  not,  indeed  ? "  echoed  Lavinia's  father. 
"  If  you  will  kindly  lend  me  your  skill—what  !  " 

"  I  will  do  what  I  can,"  Wyoming  replied.  "  Have 
you  a  Virgil  ?  " 


MATED  BY  MAGIC.  189 

"  Lavinia,  my  dear,  will  you  bring  me  the  Virgil 
from  the  library  ?  It  is  in  that  long  set  of  classic 
texts  to  the  left  of  the  fireplace." 

"  I  know  where  it  is,  Papa,"  said  his  daughter  as 
she  arose  and  left  the  room. 

"  And  then  I  shall  need  a  pack  of  cards,"  Wyo 
ming  went  on. 

"  A  pack  of  cards — what  ?  "  echoed  Mr.  Bulstrode 
Travis. 

"  There's  a  pack  in  the  library,"  Cameron  cried. 
"  Hardy  and  I  were  playing  piquet  before  dinner. 
I'll  get  them." 

When  Lavinia  returned  with  the  Virgil,  Wyo, 
ming  begged  her  to  keep  it  for  the  moment.  He  re 
quested  everybody  to  sit  down.  It  was  with  diffi 
culty  that  he  was  able  to  keep  Mr.  Bulstrode- 
Travis  quiet.  In  the  end,  however,  the  company 
had  taken  seats,  Frank  Hardy  seizing  the  occasion 
to  claim  the  place  next  to  Lavinia.  They  were 
grouped  in  an  irregular  crescent,  with  Lavinia  in  the 
centre  and  her  father  on  one  of  the  horns. 

At  last  Cameron  came  back  with  the  cards.  "I've 
looked  over  them,  old  man,"  he  said,  "and  I've  no 
doubt  that  you  will  find  them  all  right." 

Wyoming  took  the  pack,  and,  running  through  it 


1 90  MAILED  BY  MAGIC. 

hastily,  he  selected  twelve  hearts,  the  Ace  to  the 
Ten,  with  the  Knave  and  Queen. 

"  I  have  here,"  he  explained,  "  twelve  numbers, 
counting  the  Knave  as  eleven  and  the  Queen  as 
twelve.  And  there  are  twelve  books  of  the  '  ^ineid.1 
I  will  shuffle  these  dozen  cards,  and  take  them  to 
Mrs.  Vendale  and  ask  her  to  draw  one." 

"  Must  I  choose  without  seeing  what  it  is  ?  "  Mrs. 
Vendale  asked. 

"  Take  any  one,"  answered  Wyoming,  fanning 
them  out  before  her. 

"  Then  I  select  this  one,"  she  said,  picking  out 
the  card  which  the  American  had  kept  persistently 
before  her. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  cried  Mr.  Bulstrode-Travis. 

"  It  is  the  Seven  of  Hearts,"  she  answered. 

"  The  seven — a  sacred  number — a  most  fortunate 
choice,"  said  Wyoming.  "  Now,  Miss  Lavinia,  will 
you  kindly  turn  to  the  seventh  book  of  the  '  yEneid,' 
which  has  thus  been  dictated  to  us  ?  " 

"I  see — I  see,"  commented  the  host.  "You 
have  found  the  book  from  which  the  mystic  line  is 
to  be  taken ;  but  how  do  you  find  the  line  itself  ?  " 

"  You  shall  see  in  a  moment,"  responded  the 
American.  "  I  shall  distribute  five  of  these  cards 
to  different  persons  present — to  Sir  Kensington  and 


MATED  BY  MAGIC.  191 

to  Lady  Gower,  to  Mrs.  Vendale,  to  Hardy,  and  to 
you,  Cecil.  And  I  ask  you  to  write  down  a  num 
ber,  any  whole  number  you  please  between  one  and 
a  hundred,  without  any  consultation  with  each 
other." 

In  a  minute  more  the  five  numbers  were  written. 
Wyoming  went  from  one  to  the  other  collecting  the 
cards,  which  he  placed  on  the  top  of  the  pack. 
Then  he  went  down  the  line  to  Mr.  Bulstrode-Travis 
and  handed  him  five  cards.  To  Frank  Hardy,  who 
was  watching  Wyoming's  every  move,  it  seemed  as 
though  these  cards  came  from  the  bottom  of  the 
pack;  but  this  was  apparently  a  mistake,  as  the 
host  took  the  five  cards,  saying,  "  And  what  am  I  to 
do  with  these  numbers  ?  " 

"  You  are  to  add  them  together  in  absolute  si 
lence,"  replied  Wyoming;  "  and  I  must  request  that 
no  one  speaks  until  the  result  is  announced.  It  is 
essential  that  there  should  now  be  nothing  to  dis 
tract  the  attention." 

For  a  moment  there  was  no  sound  to  be  heard 
save  the  scraping  of  a  pencil  in  the  hand  of  the  host, 
as  he  copied  the  numbers  out  on  one  card  and  added 
them  up. 

"  I  make  it  two  hundred  and  fifty-five,"  he  said 
at  last. 


192  MATED  BY  MAGIC. 

11  Then,"  and  Wyoming  spoke  with  his  most  im 
pressive  manner,  "  I  have  to  request  Miss  Lavinia 
to  turn  to  the  two  hundred  and  fifty-fifth  line  of 
the  seventh  book  of  the  '  y£neid.'  " 

"I  see  now,"  cried  Mr.  Bulstrode-Travis;  "a 
most  ingenious  method,  and  absolutely  free  from 
any  possible  personal  influence,  as  we  all  collabor 
ated  in  bringing  it  about,  although  of  course  in  dif 
ferent  degrees." 

"  I  have  the  line,"  said  Lavinia. 

"  Then  if  Mr.  Hardy  will  kindly  read  it  to  us," 
Wyoming  went  on. 

"Certainly,  if  you  wish  it,"  Hardy  replied,  but 
when  his  eye  fell  on  the  line  he  flushed  and  hesi 
tated.  Then  mastering  his  surprise  he  read: 

Hunc  ilium  fad's  externa  ab  sede  profectum 
Portendi generum. 

"  And  what  does  that  gibberish  mean  ? "  asked 
Mrs.  Vendale  abruptly. 

"  It  means  that  the  old  King  of  Latium  had  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  the  stranger  who  had  arrived 
from  across  the  sea  was  the  son-in-law  foretold  by 
the  fates,"  Cameron  explained. 

And  Wyoming,  leaning  over  the  back  of  Mr. 
Bulstrode  Travis's  chair,  whispered,  "  Hunc  gene- 


MATED   BY  MAGIC.  193 

rum — this  is  the  son-in-law,"  and  he  indicated  Frank 
Hardy.  "  He  comes  over  sea,  as  he  is  an  Austra 
lian  ;  and,  as  you  may  remember,  the  name  of  the 
king's  daughter  was  Lavinia." 

"  So  it  was,"  said  Mr.  Bulstrode-Travis,  who  re 
called  his  Virgil  but  vaguely.  "  Really  this  is  a 
most  extraordinary  coincidence,  or  manifestation, 
or  what  shall  I  call  it  ?  " 

"  Do  not  disregard  so  solemn  a  message  from  the 
fates,"  the  American  rejoined  gravely.  "  If  your 
daughter  will  have  this  young  Australian,  the  sooner 
you  make  the  match  the  better." 

And  so  it  came  about,  and  in  due  season  the 
Morning  Post  announced  that  a  marriage  had  been 
arranged  between  Lavinia,  the  only  daughter  of 
Mr.  Bulstrode-Travis,  of  Redrose  Hall,  Flintshire, 
and  Mr.  Frank  Hardy,  who  had  recently  returned 
from  Australia.  As  there  was  no  reason  for  delay 
the  wedding  was  set  for  early  in  August. 
13 


IQ4  MATED   BY  MAGIC. 

II. 

THE   POSTSCRIPT. 

It  so  happened  that  Cameron  and  Wyoming  were 
in  town  when  the  wedding  took  place,  and  that  they 
were  invited  to  go  to  the  railway  station  from  which 
the  young  people  were  about  to  start  on  their  wed 
ding  tour.  Both  Frank  and  Lavinia  felt  that  their 
happiness  was  due  in  great  measure  to  the  effort  of 
the  two  friends,  and  they  were  prompt  in  express 
ing  their  gratitude.  The  young  couple  were  in  their 
carriage,  while  Cameron  and  Wyoming  leaned  in  at 
the  window.  Already  the  guard's  voice  was-heard, 
and  the  departure  of  the  train  was  imminent. 

"Tell  me  one  thing,"  cried  the*  bridegroom,  at 
last  summoning  courage.  "  How  did  you  do  the 
chess  game  ?  That  has  puzzled  me  ever  since." 

Cameron  and  Wyoming  laughed. 

"  Is  that  the  only  one  of  our  feats  which  puzzles 
you  ?  "  asked  the  American. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Hardy,  "  I  think  it  is.  At  least  I 
can  guess  at  the  others.  I  know  that  he  found  the 
vase  in  the  blue  room  by  the  ticking  of  your  watch, 
and  I  think  that  I  saw  you  give  my  respected  father- 


MATED   BY  MAGIC.  195 

in-law  not  the  cards  we  had  written  numbers  on, 
but  others  with  the  numbers  Cecil  had  prepared  in 
advance." 

"  Oh,  oh  !  "  said  Cameron ;  "  it  seems  we  have  a 
promising  neophyte  here  for  the  Rosicrucian 
Brotherhood." 

"  But  the  chess  game  ?  "  Hardy  continued  ;  "  there 
I  am  puzzled.  I  don't  see  it  at  all.  How  did  you 
do  it?" 

Here  the  guard  warned  the  two  friends  away 
from  the  door  of  the  compartment,  and  already  the 
first  tremor  of  motion  was  felt  in  the  train. 

"  This  is  our  last  request  !  "  cried  Lavinia.  "  How 
did  you  do  it  ?" 

Wyoming  looked  at  Cameron,  who  nodded.  Then 
he  said,  quietly,  "  We  made  up  the  game  in  advance, 
and  learnt  it  by  heart." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Hardy. 

And  the  train  started  sharply  forward,  and  bore 
the  young  couple  swiftly  out  of  sight  to  the  happi 
ness  of  a  honeymoon. 


ONE  STORY  IS  GOOD  TILL  ANOTHER 
IS  TOLD, 

(In  Collaboration  witJi  Gco.  H.  Jcssop^] 


ONE  STORY  IS  GOOD  TILL  ANOTHER 
IS  TOLD. 

I. 

THE   STATEMENT   OF   MR.  LEROY   HOWARD. 
Prepared  by  Himself. 

I  MUST  premise  that  I  know  of  no  reason  what 
ever  for  the  violent  assault  committed  upon  me  last 
evening  by  the  brutal  Irish  ruffian  now  under  arrest. 
Nor  can  I  imagine  any  excuse  of  any  kind,  save  the 
promptings  of  his  evil  nature  and  the  natural  tur 
bulence  of  his  race.  The  attack  was  absolutely  un 
expected,  and  it  was  wholly  unprovoked.  So  far 
as  I  am  aware,  I  had  never  even  laid  eyes  on  the 
hulking  brute  five  minutes  before  he  rushed  across 
the  street  and  assaulted  me.  I  know  nothing  what 
ever  of  this  Tim  Dwyer  save  that  I  have  been  the 
victim  of  a  cruel  and  cowardly  outrage  at  his  hands. 

I  do  not  exactly  understand  the  report  which  is 
brought  to  me  by  my  lawyer  as  to  this  Dwyer's 
assertions,  and  I  am  unable  precisely  to  meet  an 


200  ONE  S70K  Y  IS  GOOD 

allegation  most  vaguely  worded.  But  there  seems 
to  be  some  sort  of  an  assertion  that  the  photograph 
I  took  by  the  flash  light  in  the  dusk  last  evening, 
just  before  the  wanton  assault  was  made  upon  me, 
was  not  the  first  I  had  taken  of  him,  and  that  in 
some  way  or  other  I  had  taken  his  picture  at  other 
times  perforce  and  against  his  will.  I  have  no  doubt 
that  such  a  man  fears  to  find  his  brutal  features  ex 
posed  in  the  Rogue's  Gallery,  but  I  have  had  neither 
part  nor  lot  in  any  such  task,  useful  to  the  com 
munity  as  it  may  be. 

To  make  this  perfectly  plain,  and  to  destroy  any 
credence  which  might  otherwise  be  placed  in  the 
assertions  of  this  foreign  blackguard,  I  propose  to 
set  down  here  all  the  circumstances  of  my  brief  ex 
periences  as  a  photographer,  from  which  it  will  be 
at  once  apparent  there  is  not  a  shadow  of  a  support 
for  his  allegation  that  I  have  in  any  way  pursued 
or  persecuted  him.  I  shall  prosecute  him  now,  and 
I  shall  insist  upon  the  infliction  of  the  utmost  pen 
alty  of  the  law.  It  will  be  a  severe  commentary  on 
the  lax  administration  of  justice  in  this  city  if  an 
inoffensive  citizen  is  to  be  exposed  to  outrage  at 
his  very  door,  and  if  the  brutal  assailant  can  get  off 
scot  free. 

The  facts  of  the  case  are  as  follows: 


TILL  ANOTHER  IS  TOLD.  20 1 

It  is  among  the  duties  of  my  editorial  position 
on  the  staff  of  Youth,  a  monthly  magazine  for  boys 
and  girls — a  position  I  have  held  for  now  four 
months,  since  my  graduation  from  the  Oxbridge 
Grammar  School — it  is  among  my  duties  to  assist  in 
the  art  department  of  our  publication.  In  the  esti 
mate  of  the  young,  pictures  are  of  prime  impor 
tance,  and  we  pay  especial  attention  to  the  proper 
illustration  of  the  articles  we  publish.  In  the  pur 
suance  of  this  portion  of  my  editorial  duties  I  have 
familiarized  myself  with  the  most  ingenious  and 
interesting  devices  for  securing  photographs  of  ani 
mals  in  motion,  and  I  have  also  given  time  to  inves 
tigating  the  use  of  the  "  detective  camera,"  com 
monly  so  called.  As  is  known  by  all  those  whose 
obligations  lead  them  to  study  the  practical  appli 
cations  of  the  arts,  this  name  is  given  to  a  simple 
and  portable  camera,  so  lightly  made  that  it  can  be 
easily  handled  and  unobtrusively  carried;  it  is  pro 
vided  with  machinery  for  taking  an  instantaneous 
photograph. 

It  was  suggested  to  the  editors  of  YontJi  that  the 
charm  of  the  unconscious  movements  of  childhood 
might  be  caught  and  fixed  by  the  so-called  "  detec 
tive  camera,"  for  the  enjoyment  and  instruction  of 
all  who  might  see  the  pictures,  and  we  were  re- 


202  ONE  STOR  Y  IS  GOOD 

quested  to  consider  the  advisability  of  reproducing 
photographs  of  this  character  in  the  pages  of  Youth 
for  the  benefit  of  our  readers.  An  editorial  council 
was  held  to  discuss  this  proposition,  and  it  was  de 
clared*  feasible.  One  of  the  so-called  "  detective 
cameras  "  was  ordered,  and  I  was  detailed  to  per 
fect  myself  in  the  art  of  taking  instantaneous  pho 
tographs. 

On  the  day  when  the  apparatus  arrived  at  the 
house  where  I  am  boarding,  No.  90  East  Nineteenth 
Street,  I  happened  to  mention  at  the  dinner-table 
the  studies  I  was  then  engaged  in,  and  the  pleasant 
results  we  anticipated  from  the  mission  which  had 
been  confided  to  my  charge.  My  friend  Mr.  Harry 
Brackett,  one  of  the  editors  of  the  Gotham  Gazette, 
who  is  a  fellow-boarder  of  mint,  immediately  vol 
unteered  his  assistance.  I  found  that  Mr.  Brackett 
was  familiar  with  the  operation  of  the  so-called  "  de 
tective  camera,"  and  he  volunteered  to  instruct  me. 
The  next  morning,  as  it  happened,  was  a  Saturday, 
and  there  were  several  children  in  the  house,  who 
co-operated  with  us  willingly.  We  went  out  into 
the  rear  yard,  and  as  the  young  people  frisked  about 
innocently,  Mr.  Brackett  and  I  succeeded  in  taking 
some  half-dozen  interesting  and  instructive  groups 
and  single  figures.  I  may  instance  an  instantaneous 


TILL  ANOTHER  IS  TOLD.  203 

view  of  a  game  of  hop-scotch,  and  another  of  three 
boys  playing  leap-frog,  as  distinct  additions  to  our 
knowledge  of  the  voluntary  and  involuntary  move 
ments  of  juvenile  humanity.  I  was  delighted  with 
the  results  of  our  first  day's  labors,  and  I  was  anx 
ious  to  proceed  at  once.  But  the  next  day  was 
Sunday,  and  the  day  after  was  Monday,  which  hap 
pened  to  be  the  day  when  we  close  the  forms  of 
next  month's  number  of  Youth — and  so  I  could  not 
get  to  work  again  as  speedily  as  I  desired. 

On  Monday  evening  when  Mr.  Brackett  took  his 
seat  beside  me  he  told  me  that  he  had  a  new  scheme, 
in  which  he  wished  my  assistance.  A  friend  had 
told  him  that  a  composition  was  now  to  be  had  the 
ignition  of  a  small  portion  of  which  made  a  light  so 
brilliant  that  it  served  for  the  taking  of  photographs. 
A  little  of  this  novel  compound  suddenly  exploded 
by  a  percussion-cap  made  a  flash,  and  the  glare  of 
this  flash  would  suffice  to  imprint  a  picture  on  a 
sensitive  plate  adjusted  properly  on  the  so-called 
"detective  camera."  Mr.  Brackett  had  procured  a 
small  can  of  this  flashing  powder,  and  he  suggested 
that  we  go  out  that  evening  and  take  photographs 
in  the  dead  of  night.  The  idea  had  a  distinct  fasci 
nation,  although  I  could  not  but  doubt  its  prudence. 
I  am  not  accustomed  to  wander  at  midnight  through 


204  ONE  STOR  Y  IS  GOOD 

the  highways  and  byways  of  a  great  city.  But  Mr. 
Brackett,  having  been  formerly  a  reporter,  whose 
privilege  and  duty  it  was  to  go  everywhere  and  to 
know  everybody,  was  eager  for  the  proposed  noc 
turnal  excursion,  and  in  time  I  suffered  myself  to 
be  over-persuaded. 

It  was  about  ten  o'clock  on  Monday  night  when 
we  sallied  forth  in  search  of  adventure.  I  confess 
that  I  was  not  without  misgivings.  The  sky  was 
cloudy,  there  was  no  moon,  and  it  bade  fair  to  rain. 
It  was  our  intention  to  explore  rather  the  less  in 
habited  parts  of  the  city,  and  especially  the  remains 
of  what  used  to  be  known  as  Shanty  Town.  We 
took  the  Broadway  cars  to  Central  Park,  and  then 
we  walked  to  Eighth  Avenue  and  the  Boulevard. 
As  we  turned  the  corner  of  an  ill-paved  street,  in 
which  there  were  but  half  a  dozen  houses  on  each 
side,  we  almost  ran  into  a  policeman.  After  a  few 
words  of  explanation  it  was  discovered  that  Mr. 
Brackett  and  the  officer  were  old  acquaintances. 
They  had  met  when  my  friend  had  been  detailed  to 
work  up  police  cases. 

We  were  immediately  warmly  welcomed  by  the 
policeman,  who  was  apparently  of  German  birth, 
and  seemingly  a  respectable  person.  He  asked  us 
what  had  brought  us  to  so  lonely  a  neighborhood 


TILL  ANOTHER  IS  TOLD.  205 

at  so  strange  an  hour.  Mr.  Brackett  then  explained 
to  him  the  object  of  our  enterprise;  he  described 
to  him  the  so-called  "  detective  camera,"  in  which 
the  officer  expressed  the  greatest  interest,  evincing 
a  strong  desire  to  see  its  operation.  He  said  that  he 
was  then  about  to  arrest  a  minor  malefactor,  a  man 
who  had  persisted  in  keeping  poultry  in  violation 
of  a  city  ordinance,  and  to  the  extreme  annoyance 
of  the  neighbors.  It  seems  that  this  man,  after  re 
peated  warnings,  had  suddenly  hidden  his  hens  from 
the  sight  of  those  who  came  to  take  him  into  cus 
tody.  That  very  morning,  it  appears,  the  officer 
had  been  told  that  these  fowls  were  then  in  the 
basement  of  an  unoccupied  house,  into  which  the 
urban  poulterer  had  found  some  way  of  gaining  en 
trance.  This  house,  as  it  happened,  was  in  the 
street  along  which  we  were  walking;  and  the  illicit 
poulterer  had  been  seen  to 'enter  a  few  moments 
before.  The  officer  accordingly  suggested  that  we 
go  to  the  front  window  and  flash  the  light  and  pho 
tograph  the  man  and  his  poultry  at  the  very  mo 
ment  when  the  policeman  should  present  himself. 

Mr.  Brackett  fell  in  with  this  suggestion.  When 
we  came  to  the  house,  which  was  dark  and  appar 
ently  uninhabited,  the  policeman  left  us  and  went 
back  to  the  rear  door.  He  told  us  that  he  would 


206  ON£  SrOA'  Y  IS  GOOD 

peer  into  the  rear  windows  with  his  dark  lantern ; 
then  the  man  with  his  hens  would  take  refuge  in  the 
front  room,  where  we  could  get  a  most  unexpected 
and  amusing  picture. 

And  so  it  was.  When  we  heard  the  officer's  sig 
nal,  a  low  whistle,  Mr.  Brackett  exploded  a  cap  on 
the  illuminating  powder,  and  I  operated  the  camera. 
In  the  flash  we  saw, the  figure  of  a  man  crouching 
amid  a  room  full  of  roosting  fowls,  which  seemed 
much  disturbed  by  the  sudden  radiance.  When  the 
policeman  joined  us  he  insisted  on  a  full  descrip 
tion  of  the  scene,  laughing  heartily  at  the  strange 
exhibition.  He  was  so  desirous  to  see  such  a  sight 
for  himself  that  he  gave  up  his  intention  of  arrest 
ing  the  violator  of  the  law  then  and  there.  The 
patrolman  expressed  a  preference  for  a  promenade 
with  us,  stating  that  he  knew  where  the  man  lived, 

• 

and  that  he  could  arrest  the  fellow  whenever  he 
chose,  whereas  he  might  not  again  have  an  oppor 
tunity  to  see  the  workings  of  the  so-called  "  detec 
tive  camera."  As  he  walked  along  with  us  he  sug 
gested  various  places  where  we  would  certainly  be 
able  to  get  photographs  such  as  we  sought.  And 
to  these  places  we  went  with  him,  but  without  find 
ing  anything  worthy  of  reproduction. 

At  last,  after  we  had  wasted  two  hours  or  more 


TILL  ANOTHER  IS  TOLD.  207 

in  these  fruitless  wanderings,  the  storm,  which  had 
held  off  all  the  evening,  broke  suddenly.  I  declared 
my  intention  of  returning  home  at  once.  But  the 
policeman  pleaded  so  pathetically  with  me  to  make 
one  more  attempt  that  I  yielded.  He  said  he  could 
take  us  to  a  bar-room  where  the  business  of  liquor- 
selling  was  carried  on  all  night,  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that'a  renewal  of  its  license  had  been  refused.  It 
was  then  long  past  midnight,  but  the  saloon  would 
surely  be  full  of  customers,  so  the  officer  said,  and 
he  offered  to  take  us  there,  shrewdly  surmising  that 
when  he  was  seen  there  would  be  a  stampede,  which 
we  could  photograph  "  on  the  wing,"  as  he  graphi 
cally  described  it. 

To  this  illicit  bar-room  we  went— it  seems  to  have 
been  our  fate  to  be  witnesses,  only  of  illegal  actions. 
The  policeman  gave  a  curious  knock  at  the  door, 
which  was  immediately  opened  from  within.  He 
instantly  pressed  forward,  and  we  followed  him, 
ready  to  take  advantage  of  the  occasion.  As  soon 
as  the  bar-tender  caught  sight  of  the  blue  coat  of 
the  officer  of  the  law  he  pulled  a  cord  and  put  out 
the  gas,  hoping  to  allow  his  customers  to  escape 
under  cover  of  the  darkness.  But  he  reckoned 
without  us.  Mr.  Brackett  again  flashed  the  light, 
and  I  touched  the  spring  of  the  camera,  and  we 


208  ONE  STORY  IS  GOOD 

fixed  in  black  and  white  the  strange  scene  of  hurry 
ing  confusion  which  was  revealed  to  us  in  the  mo 
mentary  illumination  of  the  premises.  This  time 
.the  policeman  was  an  actual  spectator,  and  his  en 
joyment  of  the  spectacle  was  extreme.  But  it  did 
not  interfere  with  his  prompt  arrest  of  the  proprie 
tor  of  the  saloon,  the  only  person  left  in  it  when  the 
gas  was  again  lighted.  Then  he  .notified  us  that 
we  should  have  to  appear  as  witnesses  against  the 
prisoner. 

I  hastened  to  protest,  and   Mr.   Brackett  added 

b 
his  arguments  to  mine.     In  the  end  we  prevailed, 

and  then  we  withdrew  at  once.  Mr.  Brackett  wished 
to  make  another  attempt,  declaring  that  two  photo 
graphs  were  but  a  meagre  result  of  our  night's  la 
bors.  But  I  was  obdurate.  I  felt  that  it  was  high 
time  we  had  both  retired.  I  refused  absolutely. 

We  returned  home,  and  I  agreed  with  Mr.  Brack 
ett  that  we  should  go  out  again  last  night.  He 
had  an  engagement  which  would  keep  him  down 
town  until  nearly  eight  o'clock,  but  he  promised  to 
meet  me  at  the  South  Ferry  station  of  the  elevated 
railroad  at  nine.  We  had  decided  next  to  attempt 
the  lower  end  of  the  city  as  a  more  promising  field 
for  our  investigations. 

Yesterday    evening,   then,   a   little    before    eight 


TILL  ANOTHER  IS  TOLD.  209 

o'clock,  I  set  forth  to  keep  my  appointment.  I 
told  the  waitress,  Katey  Maloney,  not  to  lock  up 
the  house,  as  I  did  not  know  when  I  should  return ; 
for  of  course  I  could  not  foresee  the  impending  out 
rage  of  which  I  was  to  be  the  innocent  victim. 

As  I  was  descending  the  steps  of  the  house  I 
heard  the  shrill  whistle  of  the  letter-carrier  on  his 
last  round.  It  recalled  to  me  that  the  necessities 
of  the  rapidly-increasing  circulation  of  Youth  are 
forcing  us  to  go  to  press  earlier  arid  earlier  every 
month,  and  that  although  it  is  now  only  November, 
yet  in  a  very  few  weeks  we  shall  be  making  up  the 
February  number — the  Valentine  Extra.  I  remem 
bered  that  a  picture  of  a  postman  delivering  a  letter 
would  be  a  most  appropriate  illustration  for  that 
number  of  our  magazine,  and  it  struck  me  that  I 
had  now  a  most  excellent  oportunity  for  procuring 
such  a  picture,  "taken  from  life,"  in  the  exact  sense 
of  the  words,  and  with  the  free  movement  of  an  un 
conscious  subject. 

I  crossed  the  street  and  turned  to  face  the  door 
of  our  house.  Suddenly  a  man  whom  I  did  not 
recognize  as  an  inmate  of  the  house  ran  rapidly  up 
the  steps  and  concealed  himself  in  the  vestibule, 
having  made  no  effort  to  ring  the  bell.  As  the  let 
ter-carrier  ascended  the  steps,  with  some  envelopes 


210  ONE  STORY  IS  GOOD 

in  his  hand,  this  strange  man  came  out  on  the  top 
of  the  stoop,  as  though  he  lived  in  the  house,  and 
extended  his  hand  for  the  letters. 

This  struck  me  as  a  very  strange  proceeding.  I 
had  already  adjusted  the  apparatus  and  prepared 
the  powder.  I  seized  the  moment  when  the  stranger 
and  the  postman  were  facing  each  other,  with  out 
stretched  hands,  to  flash  the  light  and  fix  their 
image  in  this  attitude  on  the  sensitive  plate  in  the 
camera. 

As  the  blinding  brilliance  of  the  illuminating 
powder  fadetl  away,  the  darkening  dusk  descended 
again,  and  I  was  not  able  to  see  distinctly  what 
happened.  But  I  am  informed  that  the  man  who 
had  secreted  himself  in  the  vestibule  of  our  house 
thrust  the  letter-carrier  to  one  side  violently,  and 
sprang  down  the  steps  of  the  stoop  and  rushed 
across  the  street  to  the  spot  where  I  was  standing. 

The  first  intimation  I  had  of  his  presence  was  a 
brutal  blow  on  the  ear,  which  almost  stunned  me. 
Then  the  camera  was  snatched  from  my  hands  and 
smashed  against  the  pavement.  A  second  blow 
back  of  my  ear  knocked  off  my  spectacles,  which 
fell  to  the  ground  and  were  broken.  I  was  severely 
bruised,  and  by  the  suddenness  of  the  attack  I  was 
taken  unprepared,  and  altogether  very  rudely  han- 


TILL  ANOTHER  IS  TOLD.  21 1 

died,  the  man  remarking  in  his  barbarous  vernacu 
lar  that  "  he  would  larn  me  to  print  him  unbe 
knownst." 

This  is  an  exact  and  precise  statement  of  all  the 
circumstances  connected  with  the  unprovoked  and 
dastardly  assault  committed  on  me  yesterday  even 
ing  by  the  brutal  ruffian  who  is  now  in  custody,  and 
whose  name,  I  am  told,  is  Tim  Dwyer.  It  will  be 
seen  that  there  is  no  foundation  for  his  allegation 
that  I  had  been  pursuing  and  persecuting  him.  I 
had  done  nothing  of  the  kind.  I  had  never  even 
heard  his  name.  I  had  never  seen  him,  so  far  as  I 
know.  I  had  not  injured  him  in  any  way.  Under 
these  circumstances  I  deem  it  my  duty  to  demand 
the  uttermost  penalty  of  the  law  for  his  outrageous 
assault 


2 1 2  ONE  STOK  Y  75  GOOD 


II. 

THE   STATEMENT   OF   MR.    TIMOTHY   DWYER. 

Dictated  to  a  Stenographer  by  Advice  of  his  Counsel. 

I  always  was  counted  a  paceable,  aisy-goin'  man, 
an'  there  isn't  a  black  dhrop  in  me  veins,  nor  niver 
was,  an'  all  I'm  sayin'  here  to-day  is  thrue,  an' 
nothin*  less,  be  vartue  o'  me  oath.  An*  whin  I  tell 
ye  what  that  fluffy-faced,  kitten-headed  omadhawn 
done  to  me  ye'll  wonder  that  I  left  a  whole  bone  in 
his  body,  an'  more  be  token  I  wouldn't,  if  I  hadn't 
a  heart  in  me  as  soft  as  the  belly  of  a  eel. 

It  goes  widout  sayin'  that  whin  there's  a  ruction 
the  man  in  the  check  jumper'll  be  in  the  wrong  of 
it,  whin  the  man  in  the  tall  hat  an*  specs  is  as  inno 
cent  as  an  onconfessed  angel — at  laste  that's  always 
the  way  of  it  when  the  cops  take  a  hand,  an'  that's 
why  I'm  on  me  defince  now,  whin  av  I'd  ha'  done 
as  I'd  a  right,  I'd  ha*  bruk  his  neck  wid  the  first 
skelp,  an'  then  divil  a  word  he'd  ha'  let  on  about 
the  matther  at  all  at  all. 

To  begin  wid  the  beginnin' — an'  they  say  that's 
the  best  way  whin  ye  have  a  long  story  to  tell— I've 


TILL  ANOTHER  IS  TOLD.  213 

bin  kapein'  company  off  an'  on  for  two  year  wid 
Kitty  Maloney,  her  brother  bein'  an  ould  towny  o' 
mine,  an'  the  girl  herself  a  dacent  slip  enough,  wid 
an  eye  like  a  young  cowlt  an'  plinty  to  say  fof 
herself.  We  niver  had  no  cross  nor  quari»el  all  the 
time  we  were  coortin"  exceptin'  the  thrubble  the 
vviddy  Rooney  med,  an'  sure  warist  I  got  a  quiet 
minnit  wid  Kitty  an'  put  the  commether  on  her, 
she  niver  would  belave  that  the  wind  o'  the  word 
iver  passed  betune  mesilf  an'  the  widdy,  an'  she 
doesn't  belave  it  till  this  day.  Not  but  what  the 
'widdy's  a  gallus  piece  in  her  own  way,  b\\t  she's  not 
in  the  same  strate  wid  Kitty — no,  an'  I'm  saying  it 
on  oath,  not  widin  a  thousand  mile  o'  her. 

But,  as  I  was  sayin',  there  niver  was  the  cross 
look  betune  Kitty  an'  mesilf,  barrin'  the  contimp- 
tuous  little  ruction  the  widdy  riz,  an'  I  was  workin' 
hard  an'  doin'  fine  gettin'  ready  for  the  day  whin 
I'd  haul  the  colleen  home,  whin  this  thrubble  kem 
on  me,  an'  divil  resave  the  minnit's  pace  or  quiet 
I've  had  since.. 

I  had  bin  out  in  the  counthry  a  little  step — at  a 
beootiful  place  up  the  Hudson  River,  where  I've  a 
brother  o'  mine  boordin'.  His  work  does  be  very 
confinin',  poor  fellow,  an'  whin  I  want  to  see  him  I 
have  to  go  visit  him.  Well,  that's  neither  here  nor  . 


214  ONE  STORY  IS  GOOD 

there.  It  was  middlin'  late  whin  I  got  home,  an' 
afore  I  retired  I  thought  it  well  to  look  at  me 
chickens,  for  I'd  bin  away  all  the  evenin',  an'  there's 
'a  gang  o'  coons  beyant  the  Bullyvard  'ud  smell  a 
growin'  feather  quicker  nor  you  cud  ha'  singed  wan. 
By  rason  o'  the  onnayborliness  o'  me  naybors  I've 
been  kapein*  the  chickens  undher  the  cellar  o'  a  house 
I've  taken  charge  of.  They  complained  o'  me — 
that  is,  the  naybors  did,  not  the  chickens — by  rason 
o'  the  roosters  crowin'  in  the  mornin',  which  is 
nothin'  more  nor  the  nature  o'  the  baste,  an'  what's 
to  be  expected  of  every  dacent  fowl.  Be  that  as  it 
may,  I  had  to  sing  small  an'  kape  the  crathurs 
packed  away  in  a  dark  basement,  wid  a  careful  eye 
out  all  the  while  for  Dutch  Peter  the  cop,  who  niver 
was  known  to  ax  to  stir  a  burglar  or  a  goat  or  anny 
other  dangerous  baste,  but  he's  a  howly  terror  on 
fowls. 

Well,  I  went  in  an'  counted  the  hens  as  well  as  I 
cud  in  the  dark,  an'  the  crathurs  just  sat  there  an' 
clucked  fair  an'  aisy,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Tim,  ma 
bouchla,  niver  fear  we'll  raise  no  row  to  get  ye  into 
thrubble."  It  was  late  annyway,  as  I  sed.  Well, 
all  of  a  suddint  come  the  screech  of  a  whistel  let  off 
so  clost  to  me  that  it  med  me  jump  three  fut  in  the 
air,  an'  wid  that  a  flash  o'  light  that  almost  tuk  the 


TILL  ANOTHEK  IS  TOLD.  215 

sight  from  me  eyes.  Well,  I  was  that  scared  I 
didn't  know  which  way  to  luk,  an'  it  was  a  good 
piece  afore  I  cud  be  sure  I  wasn't  shot,  for  the  flash 
was  like  a  pistol.  But  a  thunderin'  big  rooster, 
worse  scared  nor  I  was,  tuk  me  a  clout  on  the  side 
o'  the  head  that  brought  me  back  to  me  wits  again, 
for  ye  see  the  crathurs  were  that  put  about  be  the 
suddint  light  that  they  were  back  an'  forwards  like 
divils.  I  med  out  o*  that  as  hard  as  I  cud  pelt,  an' 
it  was  the  mercy  o'  Providence  I  thought  o'  the 
coons  an'  locked  the  dure  afther  me. 

Now  ye'll  say  that  was  a  middlin'  quare  thing  to 
happen  to  a  dacent  man,  an'  he  comin'  back  from 
Sing  Sing,  but  that  wasn't  only  the  beginnin'  of  it. 
If  it  had  bin  a  will-o'-the-wisp,  an'  I'd  ha'  bin  an 
acre  o'  bog,  that  little  light,  bad  cess  to  it!  cudn't 
ha'  bothered  me  more.  Afther  I'd  got  out  o'  the 
place  an'  left  the  chickens  to  get  over  their  fright 
the  best  way  they  cud,  what  was  the  nixt  most 
nateral  thing  for  a  man  to  do  undher  them  sarcum- 
stances  ?  Wid  the  heart  put  clane  acrost  in  me,  an' 
the  sowls  o'  me  feet  an'  the  palms  o'  me  hands  as 
cowld  as  Christmas  Eve,  there  was  nothin'  to  be 
done  but  the  wan  thing.  I  didn't  know  of  anny 
place  I  cud  get  it  nigher  at  hand  nor  Barney's;  on 
the  corner,  for  it  was  gettin'  purty  late,  an'  anny 


216  O,VA  sroA'Y  /.v  coon 

wan  that  had  a  license  or  a  character  to  lose  was  in 
bed  long  ago.  But  divil  a  hair  did  Barney  care  for 
character,  an'  the  license  he  had  was  no  good  anny- 
how. 

Kitty's  wan  o'  Father  Mathew's  girls,  an'  hates 
a  glass  o'  whiskey  worse  nor  she  docs  a  Protestant, 
but  sure  I'm  not  tellin'  Kitty  all  I  do,  an'  av  I  did 
she  wouldn't  belave  it.  An'  as  for  the  pledge  I  tuk 
to  plaze  her,  why,  the  good  intuition  is  everything, 
as  Father  Brcnnen  says,  an'  sure  my  intuitions  is 
always  good,  av  I  only  have  the  luck  to  stick  to  them. 

There  was  a  purty  middlin*  crowd  in  Barney's  an* 
Billy  Power  wanted  to  hear  all  the  latest  news 
about  me  brother  Paudeen.  I  dun  know  if  I  min- 
tioned  that  Paudeen  was  in  thrubble  by  rason  of 
an  unfortinate  accident  that  happened  him  awhile 
ago,  whin  a  gintleman's  watch-chain  got  twisted 
round  me  brother's  slave-button  some  way.  I  niver 
got  the  rights  o'  the  story,  an'  the  cops,  who  always 
belave  the  worst  of  a  man,  med  out  that  it  was 
stalin'  it  he  was.  They  tuk  his  fortygraft,  an'  there 
niver  was  a  Dwyer  so  disgraced  since  me  father, 
rest  his  sowl,  was  thransported  for  shape-stalin' ; 
but  sure  that's  an  honorable  perfession  over  there, 
as  ye'd  know  if  ye  knew  annything  about  the  ould 
counthry. 


TILL  ANOTHER  IS  TOLD.  217 

Well,  to  come  back  to  me  dhrink!  Billy  Power 
was  thratin',  like  a  dacent  gintleman  he  is,  an'  I 
had  me  elbow,  as  it  might  be,  half-ways  crooked, 
an'  the  glass  on  a  level  wid  the  top  button  o'  me 
vest,  when — whirrush!  in  runs  a  cop,  Dutch  Peter 
hknself,  divil  a  less;  an'  such  a*  surprise  ye  niver 
seen  in  yer  life.  Men  duckin'  an'  duckin'  for  a 
place  'to  hide,  an'  good  liquor  left  standin'  on  the 
bar  as  if  it  was  as  common  as  muddy  wather  in 
Ballinasloe  Fair.  I  had  me  prisince  o'  mind,  for  I 
was  up  to  Barney's  thricks,  an'  sure  enough,  afore 
ye  cud  say  "  Howly  Moses,"  he  chucked  a  string  he 
has  behind  his  bar,  that  works  some  yoke  to  the  gas 
fixtures,  an'  out  goes  the  light,  an'  there  we  are. 
As  I  sed,  I  was  lookin'  out  for  that,  an'  I  hadn't  let 
go  me  howlt  of  me  dhrop  o'  dhrink,  so  I  was  just 
takin'  it  down  fair  an'  aisy,  whin  may  I  riiver  ate 
another  bit  if  that  same  flash  didn't  ketch  me  square 
betune  the  eyes  an'  mostly  blind  me.  I  had  sinse 
enough  to  swally  down  the  whiskey  wid  it  all,  an' 
that  gimme  courage  to  look,  an'  I  seen  the  yoke 
they  were  shootin'  at  me;  not  like  anny  pistol  ever 
I  seen,  but  more  like  a  tin  canister  nor  that,  av  ye 
cud  fancy  a  tin  canister  loaded  up  wid  blazes  instead 
o'  biskit. 

Now  there  were   no  hens  there  at  all  at  all.     It 


2l8  ONE  STORY  JS  GOOD 

was  mesilf  they  were  aimin'  at,  an'  if  they  were 
goin*  to  folly  me  about  all  over  the  town  wid  their 
ould  tin  canister  an*  pelt  me  whiniver  they  seen 
me,  I'd  put  it  to  anny  rasonable  man  if  I'd  have  e'er 
a  bit  o'  comfort  out  o'  me  life  at  all. 

I  got  out  o'  that  place  purty  quick,  an*  I  didn't 
stop  to  see  if  Barney  was  arristed  this  time,  but  it's 
apt  he  was,  for  the  place  was  closed  whin'  I  got 
back,  an'  Barney  does  be  most  ginerally  arristed 
the  latther  part  o'  the  wake.  Some  people  have 
the  height  o'  rispict  for  Barney,  but  more  doesn't 
like  a  bone  in  his  skin.  If  it  wasn't  for  the  pull  he 
has,  I  think  they'd  hang  him — divil  a  doubt  o'  it. 

But  av  this  is  to  be  .a  statement  o'  why  I  fetched 
young  fluffy-face  a  clout  on  the  lug,  I  dun  know  if 
Barney  has  much  to  do  wid  it.  Afther  lavin'  the 
saloon  I  hung  around  the  best  part  o'  the  night,  an' 
in  the  mornin'  I  tuk  a  turn  down  as  far  as  Nine 
teenth  Strate.  The  mornin's  an  iligant  hour  for 
meditation  av  ye're  disturbed  in  mind,  an'  the 
sarvant-girls  do  be  shakin'  out  the  durc-mats  along 
about  the  same  time.  Kitty  Maloney  works  in  a 
boordin'-house,  an'  I've  no  doubt  does  it  well,  for 
she's  a  raal  sinsible  slip.  Well,  sure  enough,  whin 
I  come  round  the  corner  who  should  I  see  but 
Kitty,  lookin'  mighty  plazed  at  the  sight  o'  me,  an' 


TILL  ANOTHER  IS  TOLD.  219 

beckonin'  me  wid  her  dure-mat  the  same  as  if  it  was 
the  flag  of  ould  Ireland. 

"  Good-mornin',  Tim,"  sez  she. 

"An"  the  top  o'  the  mornin' to  yersilf,  Kitty," 
sez  I. 

"  An'  thin  what  ails  ye  ?  "  sez  she.  "  Is  it  a  ghost 
ye've  seen,  or  what,  you  look  that  white  ?  " 

"  Kitty,"  sez  I,  "  there's  no  tellin'  what  I've  seen ; 
but  down  on  yer  bended  knees  an'  be  thankful  ye 
see  me  on  two  feet  this  day,  for  it's  shot  an'  wounded 
I've  been." 

"  Is.it  shot  ?  "  sez  she. 

"  Divil  a  less,"  sez  I,  "  for  I  seen  the  flash,  an' 
I've  that  confusion  of  intillict  that  they  all  do  have 
from  a  wound  in  the  head." 

Wid  that  she  began  to  laugh,  an'  said  it  was 
what  I'd  been  drinkin';  but  I  towld  her  that  I  was 
a  total  abstainence  son  of  Father  Mathew,  an'  that 
no  wan  knew  that  betther  nor  she  did,  for  she'd 
druv  me  to  sign  the  pledge  hersilf.  An'  then  I  up 
an'  towld  her  all  about  the  tin  canister  an'  the  fire 
flashes. 

She  didn't  take  much  stock  in  it.  Wimmin  is 
quare  annyhow,  an'  I've  seen  her  take  on  worse 
over  a  little  shtroke  of  a  shillalah  acrost  me  head 
nor  she  did  over  all  the  dangers  I'd  bin  through. 


220  ONE  STOR  Y  /S  GOOD 

But  she  had  her  own  talk  to  let  out  that  mornin', 
for  she  was  just  leppin  to  go  to  the  Shamrock  ball 
that  night,  an'  she  was  bound  that  I  should  take 
her. 

"  Wid  a  heart  an'  a  half,  Kitty,"  sez  I ;  for  she 
was  a  very  presintible  young  woman  entirely  to 
take  to  the  like ;  "  wid  all  me  heart.  But  sure  what 
will  the  ould  woman  say  ?  " 

That  was  the  ould  girl  that  run  that  hashery,  an' 
she  always  had  a  lick  o'  the  rough  side  of  her  tongue 
for  me  whiniver  she  seen  me. 

"  Lave  me  alone,"  sez  Kitty;  "sure  me  a^nt  in 
Brooklyn  isn't  dead  yet." 

"  Begorra  she  must  be  the  tough  ould  shtrap, 
thin,"  sez  I ;  for  more  be  token  she'd  been  an'  pled 
that  aunt  to  her  misthress  ivery  time  she  wanted  to 
get  out  wid  me  for  a  year  or  more. 

An'  wid  that  we  settled  it,  not  forgettin'  a  taste 
of  a  kiss  to  kape  usgood-timpered  ;  an'  sure  where's 
the  harm  in  the  like,  whin  there's  not  a  sowl,  barrin* 
a  milk  wagon,  on  the  block  ? 

Kitty  got  her  lave  fast  enough  to  go  to  her  poor 
sick  aunt,  an'  was  waitin*  for  me  below  the  grocery. 
Relations  is  a  great  convanience  av  ye  use  them 
right. 

Well,  be  the  time  we'd  been  at  the  Shamrock  a 


TILL  ANOTHER  IS  TOLD.  221 

couple  o'  hours,  an'  had  welted  the  flure  middlin' 
lively,  accordin'  as  we  cud  humor  the  chune  o' 
the  band,  there  was  no  gayer  lad  nor  mesilf  in  North 
Ameriky,  an'  I'd  clane  forgotten  to  think  o'  the  tin 
canister  all  the  avenin';  though  I  cudn't  get  out  o' 
the  notion  that  the  fellow  meant  me  some  divilment 
yet,  an'  maybe  'ud  chance  to  howld  the  yoke  a 
thrifle  straighter  nixt  time  he  seen  me. 

I  was  givin'  Kitty  a  taste  o*  refrishments — divil  a 
much  betther  it  was  nor  butthermilk — whin  who 
should  come  in  an'  stand  right  foreninst  us  but  the 
widdy  Rooney.  She  had  mischief  in  her  eye,  an'  I 
knew  she  was  up  to  some  thavin'  thrick  whin  she 
spoke  so  swate  to  Kitty. 

"  Good-avenin',  Miss  Maloney.  Ye're  havin'  an 
iligant  dance,  I  thrust,"  sez  she. 

"  I  can't  deny  it,"  sez  Kitty,  very  brisk  an'  spirited. 
"  The  same  to  yersilf,  ma'am,  an'  many  o'  them." 

So  they  went  at  it  hammer  an'  tongs,  the  way 
two  wimmen  will  do  whin  they  can't  talk  too  much 
blarney  an'  wish  too  much  harm  to  wan  another, 
an'  these  two  was  so  mortial  handy  at  it  that  I'd  as 
lief  thry  an*  kape  the  pace  betune  a  bull  an'  a  holly 
bush. 

At  last  the  widdy  turns  to  me,  an'  sez,  sez  she, 
""A  word  wid  ye,  Mr.  Dwyer,  av  ye  plaze." 


222  ONE  STORY  IS  GOOD 

"  Sartinly,  ma'am,"  sez  I,  "  wid  all  the  pleasure 
in  life,"  though  it's  ould  Nick  himself  I'd  rather  be 
goostherin'  wid  that  minnit. 

"  I'm  goin'  to  write  to  Miss  Canby  to-morrow," 
sez  she.  Miss  Canby's  the  ould  maid  that  kapes 
the  boordin'-house  where  Kitty  works.  "  I'm  goin' 
to  write  to  Miss  Canby,  an'  let  her  know  what  a 
mighty  plisint  avenin*  our  frinds  are  havin'  here." 

"  An'  for  what  would  ye  do  the  like  o'  that, 
ma'am  ?  "  sez  I,  the  same  as  av  I  didn't  know  it  was 
for  spite. 

"  For  fun  an*  for  fancy,"  sez  she,  an'  she  laughed 
that  plazed  that  I  knew  she'd  do  it,  an'  av  it  had 
ha'  bin  annywhere  else  but  in  a  mighty  silict  ball,  I 
think  I'd  ha' twisted  her  neck.  "For  fun  an' for 
fancy,  an'  just  to  aise  folks'  minds  in  regard  to  the 
health  of  that  very  respectable  woman  Miss  Ma- 
loney's  aunt  in  Brooklyn  beyant." 

Wid  that  she  went  off  sniggcrin'  an*  titterin',  as  if 
she'd  said  somethin'  very  smart,  an'  I  went  back 
to  Kitty. 

But  girls,  the  best  o*  thim,  is  little  betthcr  off 
nor  hens  in  the  matther  o'  sinse,  an*  she  was  that 
mad,  or  purtended  to  be,  becase  I  spoke  to  the 
widdy,  that  I  had  to  waste  the  best  part  o'  an  hour 
an'  sivin  dances  thryin'  to  soothe  her.  The  colleen 


TILL  ANOTHER  IS  TOLD.  223 

was  scared  enough,  all  the  same,  whin  I  did  get 
tellin'  her. 

"  Is  it  write  to  Miss  Canby  ?  "  she  sez,  all  of  a 
thrimble. 

"  Divil  a  less,"  sez  I,  thryin'  to  give  it  her  so  I 
wouldn't  frighten  her. 

"  Och,  millia  murther!  she'll  turn  me  out,"  sez 
she,  "  widout  as  much  of  a  character  as  'ud  make  a 
pair  o'  blankets  for  a  flea." 

"  Suppose  she  does  itself  ?  "  sez  I ;  but  I  knew  all 
the  time  that  Kitty  set  great  shtore  be  her  situation  ; 
though  I  wouldn't  ha'  given  a  nickel  for  a  dozen  o' 
them. 

"  She  must  be  stopped  from  writin1,"  sez  she. 

"Kitty,  me  darlint,"  sez  I,  "av  ye  had  as  much 
experience  wid  widdies  as  I've  had,  ye'd  know  that 
the  divil  himsilf  cudn't  do  that.'' 

"  Well,  av  we  cud  get  howlt  o*  the  letther,"  sez  she. 

"  That  might  be  done,"  sez  I.  "  I'll  hang 
around  whin  the  postman  comes  to-morrow." 

"  An'  what'll  ye  say  to  him  whin  ye  seen  him, 
avick  ?  "  sez  she. 

"Lave  that  to  me,"  sez  I.  "Av'that  limb  of  a 
widdy  writes  to  Miss  Canby,  she'll  do  it  to-morrow; 
an'  I'll  hang  around  an'  watch  close  for  the  letther, 
an'  let  you  do  the  same." 


224  ONE  STOK  Y  IS  GOOD 

"Ye  know  the  widdy's  writin',  I  suppose,  Tim  ?" 
sez  she,  so  innocent  an'  onconcerned  like  that  I 
slaps  out  wid,  "  To  be  sure ;  why  not  ? "  widout 
thinkin'.  An'  mortial  sorry  I  was  whin  she  sez, 
"Ho!  ho!"  sez  she.  "So  you've  been  rcsavin' 
letthers  from  the  widdy,  have  ye  ?  " 

"  Niver  think  it,  acushla,"  sez  I.  "  But  sure  ivery- 
body  ud  know  a  widdy's  letther." 

"  An'  how  wud  they  do  that  ?  "  sez  she. 

"  Becase  a  widdy  always  writes  wid  red  ink,  as 
is  well  known.  They  dar'n't  write  wid  black  ink 
for  fear  folks  ud  think  they  was  mournin'  too  much 
afthcr  the  first  husband,  an'  that  ud  spoil  the  new 
market." 

It  tuk  time  an'  a  good  dale  o'  solid,  sinsible  talk 
to  mek  her  belave  that ;  but  I  got  her  home  quiet 
an'  aisy  afther  a  while. 

The  next  day  I  dhropped  round  for  a  word  while 
the  boorders  were  fillin'  up  above-stairs — it's  always 
a  mighty  paceful  time  in  a  boordin'-house — an'  Miss 
Kitty  towld  me  a  mighty  quare  thing. 

It  wasn't  about  the  widdy.  She'd  done  nothin' 
yit ;  but  I  wasn't  goin'  to  thrust  her,  for  Kitty  set 
dcsprit  store  about  her  not  writin'  to  the  ould 
maid.  No;  it  was  about  another  sarcumstance 
altogether.  The  girl  wint  at  it  this  way. 


TILL  ANOTHER  IS  TOLD.  225 

"Tim,"  sez  she,  "whin  are  ye  goin'  to  give  me 
that  fortygraft  ye  promised  me  ?  " 

"  Tare  an'  ages,  Kitty  !  "  sez  I,  for  she  was  always 
axin'  for  the  same  thing,  till  she  had  me  wore  out; 
"  is  it  off  on  that  ould  tack  ye  are  agen  ?  Sure  ye 
know  that  I  niver  had  me  pictur'  tuk,  an'  niver 
will." 

"  An'  why  not,  Tim  ?  "  sez  she.  "  Sure  I've  seen 
uglier  faces  nor  yours  in  the  shop  windies." 

"  Uglier  ye  have,  I  don't  doubt,"  sez  I.  "  But, 
be  this  and  be  that,  ye'll  niver  see  moine  there. 
Think  o*  the  disgrace  o'  the  like  to  a  dacent  boy  ! " 

"  Faith  an'  I  can't  see  the  disgrace,"  sez  she. 

"  Is  it  not  see  it  ?  "  sez  I.  "  To  be  put  up  there 
for  the  polis  anny  time  they  want  me  ?  No,  Kitty; 
av  iver  I  have  the  misfortin  to  kill  a  man,  I'm  willin' 
to  suffer  for  it  as  becomes  a  Dwyer;  but  wan  man 
in  wan  family  is  enough  to  be  disgraced  that  way." 

"Ah,  sure  enough.  Ye  towld  me  yer  brother 
was  fortygrafted.  I  wondher  how  he  stud  it  ?  "  sez 
she. 

"  Begorra  he  stud  it  rowlin'  on  the  flure,"  sez  I. 
"  That  was  how  he  stud  it.  For  there  was  three 
men  howldin'  him ;  an'  a  docthor,  wid  some  bowld 
divil  they  called  Annie  Sthetic,  all  on  to  him  at  the 
wanst,  an'  sure  what  cud  the  poor  fellow  do  ?  " 


226  ONE  STORY  IS  GOOD 

"  Well,  Tim,"  sez  Kitty,  spakin'  middlin'  comical, 
"I'll  forgive  ye  this  time;  for  I  have  yer  pictur', 
an'  an  iligant  likeness  it  is."  And  wid  that  she 
showed  me,  up  to  me  own  face  an*  eyes,  a  mane 
little  pictur'  o'  mcsilf  tuk  wid  a  glass  o'  liquor  at 
me  lips,  an'  Billy  Power  alongside  o'  me,  wid  his  big 
mouth  open  an*  his  ould  caubeen  on  the  back  o'  his 
head,  as  nateral  as  life. 

I  declare,  there  was  a  minnit  I  didn't  know 
whether  I  was  slapin'  or  flyin'  ! 

"  Well,  now,  Kitty,"  sez  I,  purty  soon,  "  ye  can 
see  that's  not  me  wid  a  whiskey  glass,  for  ye  know 
I  niver  touch  the  like." 

"  It's  powerful  like  ye,  Tim,"  sez  she,  laughin'. 

"  Ah,  to  think  o'  yer  seein*  poor  Paudeen  in  his 
disgrace,"  sez  I,  "  an'  that  big-mouthed  docthor 
alongside  o'  him !  Ah,  there's  no  knowin'  where  a 
man'll  land  whin  he  begins  by  havin1  his  fortygraft 
tuk." 

"  Oh,  it's  yer  brother's  pictur',"  sez  she.  "  He 
has  a  great  luk  o'  ye,  thin." 

"  Powerful,"  sez  I ;  an'  that  satisfied  her,  for  she 
had  niver  seen  him ;  but  I  had,  an*  it  didn't  satisfy 
me  near  so  good,  for  Paudeen  no  more  favors  me 
nor  a  wisp  o'  straw  favors  an  ould  black  kettle.  It 
was  aisy  enough  to  contint  Kitty,  for  sure  there  was 


TILL  ANOTHER  IS  TOLD.  227 

the  liquor  to  prove  to  her  it  cudn't  be  me;  but  I 
was  bothered  intirely,  an'  felt  like  the  praste  that 
the  girl  kissed  widout  his  ever  misthrustin'  that 
she'd  done  it. 

Where  in  the  world  cud  they  have  ketched  me 
to  stale  a  pictur'  off  o'  me,  an'  I  niver  guess  the 
wrong  bein'  done  me  ? 

I  looked  closterat  the  fortygraft,  an'  I  seen  a  thin 
edge  o'  a  face  wedged  in  wan  corner;  nothin'  but 
the  grin  on  wan  lip  of  it  showin';  but  I  cudn't  be 
mistook  in  that  grin.  It  was  Barney. 

An'  wid  that  the  whole  thing  lepped  at  me  like  a 
wink,  an'  I  had  it.  The  tin  canister  an'  the  flash  o' 
light  an'  the  whole  bedivilment  o'  the  other  night 
kem  to  me,  an'  I  seen  how  I'd  bin  abused.  But  I 
got  off  purty  aisy,  considerin'  what  determined 
vilyans  they  was ;  for  I  looked  close  at  the  pictur' 
an'  divil  a  sign  o'  the  hens  cud  I  see,  good  nor  bad. 

The  bell  rung  while  I  was  talkin'  to  Kitty,  an'  she 
had  to  lave  me  to  go  crack  eggs  or  the  like  for  the 
boorders.  If  iver  I  had  to  take  boorders,  I'd  liefer 
feed  pigs;  they  have  nothin'  to  say  agin  their  vic 
tuals,  an'  they  take  whativer  ye've  a  mind  to  give 
'em,  besides  bein'  more  betther  money's  worth  in 
the  long  run.  Annyhow  I  had  to  lave  suddint  that 
minnit,  for  I  heerd  Miss  Canby's  v'ice  on  the  shtairs. 


228  o <\'E  sro/ty  is  GOOD 

I  walked  up-town  fair  an'  aisy,  an'  whin  I  got  to 
the  corner  o'  Sixtieth  Strate,  who  should  I  see  but 
the  widdy  Rooney,  an'  she  just  dhroppin'  a  letther 
into  a  lamp-post. 

"  The  top  o'  the  mornin'  to  ye,  ma'am,"  sez  I. 
"  It's  airly  ye  are  sendin'  valentines." 

She  gcv  a  wicked  soort  o'  a  grin.  "  I  like  to  be 
in  good  time,  Tim  Dwyer,"  sez  she. 

Wid  that  I  knew  that  she  had  done  it,  an'  that 
she  had  bin  writin'  her  lyin'  letther  to  Miss  Canby; 
for  I'd  liefer  she  did  lie  about  the  colleen  itself  nor 
tell  the  trut',  for  the  trut'  may  be  full  as  damagin* 
as  a  lie,  an'  it's  harder  work  upsettin*  it. 

I  seen  a  letther-carrier  wid  whom  I  had  enough 
of  an  acquaintance  to  wish  him  the  time  o'  day,  an' 
I  towld  him  I'd  just  mailed  a  highly  important 
doccyment  to  Nineteenth  Strate,  an'  what  time  wud 
it  be  delivered. 

"A  few  minnits  afore  eight  o'clock  in  theavenin'," 
sez  he ;  an*  wid  that  I  seen  how  I  cud  euchre  the 
ould  cat,  an'  sure  enough  I  wud  ha'  euchred  her, 
an'  no  wan  a  haporth  the  wiser,  av  it  hadn't  been 
for  that  divil  of  a  flash  that  kern  jist  in  time  to  mek 
all  this  thrubble. 

I  was  hangin'  around  the  dure  of  No.  90 — that's 
the  house  in  Nineteenth  Strate — a  quarter  afore 


TILL  ANOTHER  IS  TOLD.  229 

eight,  an'  Kitty,  the  crathur,  was  watchin*  me  out 
o'  the  front  basement,  for  she's  niver  so  happy  as 
whin  she  kin  have  her  eyes  on  me.  It  was  middlin' 
dark  whin  the  postman  kem  around ;  I  cud  hear  his 
whistle,  an'  I  run  up  an'  hid  jist  inside  the  front 
dure.  Well,  I  stipped  out  to  mate  him  as  bowld  as 
brass,  the  same  as  av  I  owned  the  block,  an'  he 
handed  me  three  or  four  letthers  all  in  a  bunch. 

Did  anny  wan  iver  hear  tell  o'  the  like  ?  A  lone 
woman  widout  a  man  to  her  name  gettin'  all  them 
letthers  at  a  lick,  the  same  as  if  she  was  the  Prisi- 
dint,  jist  a  purpose  to  confuse  me!  I  was  consid- 
therin'  that  I'd  betther  tear  them  all  up,  for  thin 
I'd  be  sure  o'  the  widdy's  letther  annyhow,  whin, 
bang!  may  I  niver  ate  another  bit  av  some  one 
didn't  shoot  me  from  right  acrost  the  strate.  Yis, 
sir;  there  it  was;  the  same  ould  flash  leppin  up,  an' 
the  same  ould  tin  canister,  only  this  time  I  wasn't 
scared  so  much  as  I  was  mad.  I  seen  the  whole 
thrick.  This  fellow  was  follyin'  me  round  stalin' 
pictur's  o'  me.  Very  apt  he  had  me  likeness  among 
all  the  chickens,  or  he'd  given  it  to  Dutch  Peter  as 
ividence  agin  me,  an'  I  knew  he  had  me  cot  drinkin' 
whiskey  afther  hours.  But  this  time  I  was  breakin' 
no  law,  only  puttin'  a  stop  to  mischeevious  letthers, 
so  I  didn't  give  a  trauneen  fer  him.  I  jist  tuk  a 


230  ONE  STOK  V  IS  GOOD 

flyin'  lape  down  out  o'  the  shtoop,  an'  I  was  acrost 
the  strate  afore  ye  cud  say  whillaloo. 

Be  vartue  o*  me  oath,  I  only  hot  him  the  three 
licks — wan  to  knock  him  down,  wan  to  sthraighthen 
him  up  whin  he  was  Tallin',  an  wan  more  to  lay  him 
down  steady  an'  quiet  while  I  smashed  the  murtherin* 
ingine  he  had ;  an?  av  I  left  a  bit  o  that  bigger  nor 
a  bit  o'  wood,  I'm  willin'  to  go  to  jail  fer  it.  1  niver 
hot  him  but  the  three  blows,  an'  he'd  bin  parse 
cutin'  o'  me  fer  nights.  Av  I'd  bin  a  man  o'  violent 
timper  there's  no  sayin*  but  I  might  ha'  hurt  him, 
but  there  was  no  satisfaction  in  b'atin'  the  like.  He 
was  shuk  wid  the  first  lick,  an'  all  ran  together  like 
a  spoonful  o'  milk  curd,  squealin'  for  all  the  world 
like  a  shot  hare.  They  tell  me  I  blacked  his  eyes 
an'  lift  a  singin'  in  his  ears  he  mayn't  git  over  in  a 
month.  A  black  eye!  That's  a  purty  thing  to  mek 
a  fuss  about.  I've  known  dacent  boys  ud  be 
ashamed  to  be  seen  goin'  home  from  a  dance  or  a 
wake  widout  a  pair  o'  thim.  An'  as  for  his  ears  — 
bad  cess  to  them — it's  little  enough  alongside  o'  my 
character  disgraced  be  his  fortygraftin'. 

That's  all  I  have  to  say,  an'  is  a  thrue  statement  of 
why  I  bruk  his  infernal  yoke  an'  shtroked  his  fluffy 
head  fer  him.  He's  tuk  me  face,  that  is  me  own 
property  annyhow,  an'  lift  it  lyin'  round  to  disgrace 


TTLL  ANOTHER  fS  TOLD.  231 

me,  for  Kitty  towld  me  she  found  it  in  his  room 
that  mornin',  for  he  boords  in  wid  ould  Miss  Canby. 
He's  bro't  the  mowltin'  disaise  on  me  fowl  by  the 
scare  he  gev  'em,  an'  he  cost  me  tin  cints  to  go  to 
mass,  for  I  didn't  know  but  what  the  divil  was  afther 
me,  flashin'  fire  at  me  in  quare  places  in  the  dark, 
an'  in  close  hoults  wid  me  sowl.  If  that  yoke  o' 
his  iver  takes  a  pictur'  agin,  it'll  be  becase  the 
divil  is  in  it ;  an'  if  anny  wan  blames  me  fer  what 
I've  done,  all  I  ax  them  is  to  put  theirsilves  in  me 
place,  an'  see  how  they'd  like  it  thimsilves. 

Av  ye  can  square  this  thing  wid  the  young  man, 
I'd  let  him  off  an'  not  take  the  law  o'  him  for  felo 
nious  fortygrafts ;  for  Kitty's  lost  her  place  wid 
Miss  Canby,  an'  we'll  git  married  Sunday  very  apt 
av  I  don't  be  locked  up  for  this  night's  work. 

But  sure  what  can  they  do  to  me,  widout  they 
mek  it  out  that  silf-clefince  is  a  crime  in  New  York  ? 


THREE  WISHES, 

(In  Collaboration  with  F.  Anstey.) 


THREE  WISHES. 
I. 

ON  the  south  coast  of  England,  where  a  white 
headland  juts  into  the  Channel,  stands  the  High- 
School  of  Witherington,  anew  and  handsome  group 
of  buildings,  with  a  garden  before  the  master's 
door,  and  a  large  play-ground  spreading  away  to 
the  woods  which  mask  the  brow  of  the  hill.  When 
the  summer  sun  shines  on  this  play-ground,  noisy 
with  boys,  it  is  as  pleasant  a  sight  as  one  could  wish 
to  see;  but  on  a  dark  January  afternoon,  toward 
the  end  of  the  Christmas  vacation,  when  there  are 
only  two  lads  loitering  across  its  empty  expanse, 
its  appearance  is  less  cheerful. 

A  chill  wind  was  blowing  up  from  the  Channel 
across  the  Downs,  and  one  of  the  two  boys,  a  little 
taller  and  slighter  than  his  companion,  shivered,  and 
buttoned  his  overcoat. 

"  This  is  just  the  meanest  climate  I  ever  saw,"  he 
said.  "  It  ain't  real  winter,  with  snow  and  ice  so 


236  THREE   WISHES. 

that  a  fellow  can  skate — it's  only  damp  and  disa 
greeable  all  the  time." 

"  It  does  snow  here  sometimes,"  returned  his 
companion,  a  sturdy,  thick-set  lad  of  about  twelve. 
"  Wait  till  you've  been  here  a  whole  winter  and 
you'll  see." 

"  It  doesn't  snow  enough  to  coast,  does  it  ?  '  asked 
the  taller  youth,  apparently  of  about  the  same 
age.  "  In  America  a  winter  is  no  good  unless  we 
coast." 

"  What's  coasting?"  the  English  boy  asked. 

"  Coasting  is  sliding  down  hill,"  the  American 
answered,  with  a  glow  of  enthusiasm.  "  It's  just 
bully,  I  tell  you!  " 

"  It  sounds  rather  fun,"  said  Jack  Ainsley,  the 
English  boy. 

"  I  wish  my  folks  hadn't  had  to  go  to  Rome,  and 
then  I  shouldn't  have  had  to  come  here  right  in  the 
middle  of  vacation,  when  there  isn't  anybody  here 
but  you." 

"You'll  like  it  better  when  the  boys  get  back," 
Jack  replied;  "and  I'm  really  worse  off  than  you, 
for  my  people  are  out  in  India,  and  I  may  not  see 
them  for  years  yet." 

"  That  is  rough  on  you,  I  allow,"  admitted  the 
American,  whose  name  was  Heywood  H.  Brevoort. 


THREE   WISHES.  237 

"  I  had  a  letter  from  the  mater  the  day  before 
Christmas,  and  she  said  it  might  be  two  years  be 
fore  she  came  home.  She  said  that  Colonel  Kav- 
anagh,  an  old  friend  of  hers,  was  coming  up  here  to 
see  me;  but  he  hasn't  been  yet." 

"  But  you've  friends  here  and  I  don't  know  any 
body  at  all,"  Heywood  responded.  "You've  been 
here  for  a  year  now,  and  you  know  all  the  other 
boys  when  they  come  back;  and  you're  going  to  a 
party  this  evening." 

"  I  wish  you  were  coming  too,"  said  Jack. 

"  I  wish  I  was,  but  I  don't  know  the  Gowers,"  re 
plied  Heywood.  "  What  I  do  wish  is  to  be  back  in 
America.  I'd  go  coasting  all  night." 

"There  isn't  any  good  wishing;  you  know  that 
won't  help  you,"  said  the  English  boy. 

"  Wishing's  lots  of  fun,  anyhow,"  returned  the 
American.  "  I  like  to  wish  for  things,  and  some 
times  I  half  think  I've  got  'em,  I  wish  so  hard." 

"  I've  longed  for  a  magic  lantern,"  commented 
Jack,  "but  it  wasn't  the  same  as  getting  it." 

"  Those  old  magicians  in  the  '  Arabian  Nights,' 
you  know,"  Heywood  went  on,  "  they  had  the  thing 
down  fine.  They  had  a  lamp  or  a  ring  or  some 
thing,  and  whenever  they  wanted  anything,  they 
just  rubbed  their  old  lamp,  and  a  big  black  spook 


238  THREE   WISHES. 

came,  and  they  ordered*  him  'round,  and  they  had 
what  they  wanted  in  no  time." 

"  Is  '  spook '  what  you  call  the  '  slave  of  the 
lamp  ?  '  "  asked  Jack. 

"  He's  one  kind  of  a  spook,"  replied  Hey  wood. 

"  I  wish  we  had  a  lamp  of  that  sort  now." 

"  It  would  be  dead  loads  of  fun,  wouldn't  it  ?  I'd 
keep  that  black  spook  on  the  trot,  I  tell  you !  I 
wonder  if  I  couldn't  make  him  learn  lessons  for 
me  ?  "  said  Heywood. 

"What  would  be  the  use  of  that?"  said  Jack; 
"you'd  have  to  say  them,  you  know." 

"  I  hadn't  thought  of  that,"  Heywood  admitted, 
ruefully. 

"  I  shouldn't  care  so  much  for  the  lessons,"  re 
turned  Jack;  "but  there's  ever  so  many  things  I'd 
like.  I'd  send  him  for  a  magic  lantern,  for  one  thing, 
and  for  a  bicycle,  and  for  the  best  stamp  collection 
in  the  world,  and  for  a  telescope  you  could  tell 
the  time  with  on  a  church  clock  a  hundred  miles 
away." 

"  Generally  one  only  has  three  wishes,  you  know," 
Heywood  remarked  in  turn.  "  I'd  begin  by  wishing 
to  be  taken  over  to  America,  to  coast  all  this  even 
ing,  and  to  go  skating  to-morrow.  I  suppose  a 
Djinn  can  make  it  freeze  if  you  order  him  ?  " 


THREE   WISHES.  239 

•'  I  dare  say,"  Jack  answered.  "  I  don't  know 
much  about  Djinns  myself." 

"  I've  read  enough  to  know  pretty  much  what 
they're  like,"  said  Heywood.  "  I  guess  I'd  recog 
nize  one  if  I  happened  on  him." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  I  should  too.  But  what  bosh  ! 
As  if  we  were  likely  to  !  " 

"Well,  I  don't  know  about  that.  I  never  heard 
any  reason  why  there  shouldn't  be  Djiuns  now  just 
as  much  as  there  were  in  the  'Arabian  Nights.'  It 
all  depends  on  your  having  the  right  sort  of  lamp 
or  ring  or  something  or  other."  And  here  Hey 
wood  sank  his  voice  to  a  mysterious  whisper. 
"  Have  you  ever  tried  rubbing  a  lamp  or  a  ring  to 
see  what  would  happen  ?  " 

"  No.     Have  you  ?  " 

"  Lots  of  times,"  was  the  prompt  reply. 

"  And  what  happened  ?  " 

"Nothing." 

"  Then  what's  the  good  of  trying  ?  "  was  Jack's 
natural  inquiry. 

"  Well,  I  don't  give  up  the  idea,"  answered  the 
American  boy.  "You  can't  tell  when  the  right 
ring  or  the  right  lamp  may  turn  up.  There  isn't 
any  sign  by  which  you  can  pick  'em  out  without 
trying,  and  if  you  don't  try,  you  may  miss  the  very 


240  THREE   IRISHES. 

lamp  which  the  black  spook  has  to  obey.  I  don't 
believe  in  throwing  away  chances.  I've  taken  a  rub 
on  'most  every  lamp  I  ever  laid  my  hands  on,  and 
most  rings  too.  You  see,  even  in  the  '  Arabian 
Nights '  the  people  didn't  generally  know  that  they 
had  the  Djinn's  lamp.  More'n  half  the  time  they 
rubbed  it  by  accident,  and  then  they  were  surprised 
when  the  slave  of  the  ring  appeared  and  bowed 
to  the  ground,  and  asked  them  what  they  wanted. 
Oh,  I  tell  you  I've  been  studying  this  thing  up 
ever  since  I  first  got  at  the  'Arabian  Nights,' 
and  sooner  or  later  I  may  get  hold  of  the  right 
ring." 

The  English  boy  listened  to  this  American  out 
burst  somewhat  doubtfully. 

"  Have  you  tried  it  on  your  own  ring  ?  "  he  asked 
at  last. 

"  Pshaw  !  "  answered  Heywood,  "  that  ring  of 
mine  isn't  metal." 

"  And  must  it  be  metal  ?  " 

"  I  think  so— leastways  I  never  read  about  one 
working  satisfactorily  that  wasn't ;  generally  they 
are  old  iron." 

"  And  what  is  your  ring  made  of  ?  " 
"  It's  an  Indian  ring  —not  your  Indian,  you  know, 
but  our   Indians,  Pawnees  or  Sioux  or  Chippewas. 


THREE   WISHES.  241 

I  got  it  at  Niagara.  It's  made  of  porcupine  quills 
dyed  and  twisted  together  and — 

Here  Master  Heywood's  description  of  the  pe 
culiarities  of  his  ring  was  suddenly  cut  short  by  the 
sound  of  carriage  wheels  approaching  the  master's 
entrance. 

"  There's  the  Cowers*  carriage  come  for  me,'; 
cried  Jack.  "  I  must  be  off." 

The  boys  ran  together  to  the  front  door.  As  the 
carriage  drove  off,  Jack  thrust  his  head  out  of  the 
window  and  bade  his  comrade  good-by. 

"  I  don't  know  why  a  porcupine  quill  ring 
shouldn't  work  just  as  well  as  any  other,  for  all  it 
isn't  down  in  the  books,"  thought  the  American 
boy  as  he  lingered  in  the  shrubbery  of  the  master's 
garden.  The  twilight  was  beginning  to  fade  away. 
"  I  suppose  the  Djinn  of  an  Indian  ring  would  be  a 
chief  of  some  sort,  Red  Jacket  or  Osceola,  now. 
I'd  like  to  see  either  of  'em,  and  if  they  were  spooks 
and  had  to  obey  the  ring,  I  don't  see  but  what 
they'd  be  just  as  useful  as  the  other  kind." 

As  these  thoughts  ran  through  his  mind  rapidly, 
his  fingers  had  closed  about  the  barbarically-colored 
circlet  which  adorned  his  right  hand.  He  was  in 
the  middle  of  the  strip  of  garden  which  stretched 

beside  the  play-ground  when  he  took  a  resolution, 
16 


242  THREE   WISHES. 

and  he  began  to  rub  the  ring  on  his  little  finger  vio 
lently  with  the  palm  of  his  left  hand. 

"  It  never  did  any  good  before,"  he  said  to  him 
self,  "  and  I  don't  know  as  it'll  do  any  good  now, 
but  I  might  as  well  try  it  on.  What  should  I  ask 
for  if  he  came?  I'd  better  settle  that  now.  It 
wouldn't  do  to  have  no  commands  ready  for  him ; 
he'd  think  I  was  a  fool.  I  can't  make  up  my  mind 
what's  best  here  without  Ainsley.  It  wouldn't  be 
a  bad  idea  if  I  said  in  a  careless  kind  of  way  I 
wanted  three  wishes  to  start  with.  That  would  give 
me  time  to  look  around  and  save  me  the  bother  of 
calling  him  up.  You  have  to  get  used  to  the  look 
of  these  fellows." 

Suddenly  the  boy  stopped  short  in  fright.  As 
though  the  ground  had  opened  to  give  him  passage, 
there  stood  before  the  lad  a  strange  dark  figure  of 
a  man  in  Oriental  garb.  The  boy  stared  in  silent 
astonishment  at  the  mysterious  person  who  towered 
above  him  in  the  deepening  dimness. 

After  a  moment  of  tension,  while  Heywood 
could  hear  his  heart  beating  violently,  and  while  his 
brain  whirled  at  the  sudden  fulfilment  of  his  sum 
mons,  the  dark  figure  took  a  step  forward  and 
bowed  and  said,  "  Sahib." 

As  the  weird  messenger  advanced  toward  him  the 


THKEE   WISHES.  243 

boy  started  back,  and  in  the  constraint  of  his  move 
ment  the  ring  was  jerked  from  his  finger  and  rolled 
away  in  the  grass.  For  the  moment  he  did  not  dare 
to  stoop  to  recover  it. 

At  last  the  lad  summoned  his  courage. 

"  Are  you  the  slave  of  the  ring  ?  "  he  asked,  in  a 
voice  which  trembled  in  spite  of  his  utmost  endeavor. 

"  Sahib  ?  "  repeated  the  figure. 

"  Are  you  come  to  do  my  bidding  ?  "  cried  the 
boy,  gaining  confidence.  "  Can  I  have  my  three 
wishes  ?" 

The  dark  figure  bowed  again  and  replied :  "  The 
young  Sahib  shall  have  what  he  wishes  to-morrow." 

"  Oh,"  said  the  boy,  "  I  can  have  them  to-morrow 
— sure  ? " 

"Yes,  Sahib,"  was  the  respectful  answer.  "I 
come  again  to-morrow." 

"  I'd  like  Jack  to  have  a  show  in  this  thing," 
thought  Heywood.  So  he  spoke  again :  "  Look 
here;  I  have  got  a  friend  here.  I  suppose  it  will 
be  the  same  thing  if  I  let  him  use  one  of  the  wishes  ?  " 

"The  Sahib's  friend  can  use  it,  too,"  was  the 
reply. 

"All  right."  Heywood  felt  his  spirits  returning. 
"  I'm  to  have  my  three  wishes  to-morrow,  and 
you'll  see  that  I  get  'em — three,  you  know  ?" 


244  THREE   WISHES. 

"  There  are  three — yes,  Sahib." 

"  I  am  very  much  obi—  No,  I  mean  that  will  do 
for  the  present.  You  can  go  back  to  wherever  you 
came  from." 

Again  the  sable  figure  bowed  ;  then  it  turned, 
and  to  Heywood's  startled  eyes  it  seemed  to  fade 
into  darkness,  to  melt  into  thin  air. 

When  he  was  alone,  Heywood  looked  about  him 
curiously.  Then  he  drew  a  long  breath.  Then  he 
gave  a  whistle  of  surprise. 

"I  ain't  asleep,  ami?"  he  queried  of  himself; 
whereupon  he  pinched  his  arm  and  convinced  him 
self  that  he  was  not  dreaming. 

"  He's  a  useful  kind  of  thing  to  have  about;  but 
he  makes  me  awful  creepy  at  first.  I  guess  I'll  get 
over  jumping  after  a  time.  It  would  be  fun  to  rub 
the  ring  in  class-time  and  see  him  come  up  through 
the  floor.  Oh,  I  mean  to  be  a  popular  boy  in  this 
school —don't  I,  just?"  Here  he  hugged  himself 
with  anticipatory  delight. 

"  And  to  think  I've  had  that  ring  all  this  time 
and  never  tried  it  before — and  it  was  the  right  kind, 
after  all.  I  wonder  where  it's  gone  to  ?  " 

And  with  this  he  stooped  and  began  to  search  in 
the  grass;  but  the  ring  was  nowhere  to  be  found. 
The  lad  looked  for  it  long  and  diligently,  yet  in 


THREE   WISHES.  245 

vain.  At  last  he  gave  over  the  quest,  resolved  to 
resume  it  in  the  morning. 

He  walked  from  the  garden  to  the  play  ground, 
and  began  to  pace  to  and  fro,  going  over  all  the  in 
cidents  of  his  meeting  with  the  mysterious  unknown, 
and  recalling  every  word  of  their  brief  conversa 
tion.  He  doubted  whether  he  had  really  heard  and 
seen  what  he  had  heard  and  seen.  With  all  his 
imagination  and  power  of  make-believe,  he  was 
startled  and  staggered  by  this  seemingly  supernat 
ural  response  to  his  summons.  He  thought  the 
matter  over  until  he  did  not  know  what  to  think. 

When  he  was  called,  he  went  in  to  his  supper 
with  his  head  in  a  whirl;  and  a  companion,- had  he 
had  one,  could  not  but  have  remarked  the  wander- 
ing  of  his  mind. 

In  time  he  went  up  to  bed  in  the  huge  empty 
dormitory,  which  he  alone  now  shared  with  Jack 
Ainsley.  Although  he  undressed,  he  found  it  im 
possible  to  sleep  until  the  return  of  his  friend  should 
permit  him  to  give  vent  to  his  emotions,  and  to  im 
part  to  another  the  marvel  under  which  his  head 
was  still  reeling. 

At  length  Jack  Ainsley  returned  from  his  tardy 
Christmas  party.  It  was  with  difficulty  that  Hey- 
wood  restrained  himself  while  he  listened  to  Jack's 


246  TIIKEE   WISHES. 

account  of  the  various  delights  of  the  evening's 
entertainment.  That  which  had  most  impressed 
him  was  the  beautiful  new  tricycle  which  young 
Gower  had  received  as  a  Christmas  box  from  his 
father. 

"That's  the  kind  of  present  I  should  like,"  Jack- 
cried,  as  he  described  this  machine  with  glowing 
enthusiasm,  undressing  the  while  and  making  ready 
for  bed.  "  If  we  could  ony  have  three  wishes — you 
remember  what  we  were  talking  about  this  after 
noon  ?  Well,  I'd  choose  a  tricycle  like  Gower's  for 
my  first  wish." 

This  was  the  effective  opening  for  which  Hey 
wood  had  been  waiting. 

"  Perhaps  I  will  give  you  your  wish,"  he  said, 
with  dignity. 

"  You  can  when  your  Djinn  comes,  you  know," 
returned  Jack,  laughing  as  he  got  into  bed;  "not 
before." 

"  Then  I  can  do  it  now,"  Heywood  replied,  sol 
emnly  and  with  an  unequalled  self-satisfaction. 
"The  Djinn  has  come!" 

"  Oh,  rot  ! "  said  Jack,  stretching  himself  out  in 
bed. 

"  Honest  Indian  !  "  cried  Heywood,  a  little  taken 
aback  at  his  friend's  stolid  reception  of  his  startling 


THREE    WISHES.  247 

news.  I  mean  it !  I  rubbed  the  ring,  as  you  said, 
and  the  Djinn  came." 

"  What  ?  "  almost  shouted  Jack,  sitting  bolt  up 
right  in  bed. 

"  I  was  in  the  garden  just  after  you  went  off,  and 
I  rubbed  the  ring  and  the  slave  of  the  ring  ap 
peared." 

"  What  was  he  like  ?  " 

"  He  was  dressed  just  as  they  are  in  the  '  Arabian 
Nights,'  and  he  had  on  a  turban  and — 

"  What  was  he  like  himself  ?  "  interrupted  Jack. 

"  Like  ?  Oh,  like  the  ones  in  the  book  !  He  was 
dark  and  very  tall — immensely  tall ;  he  must  have 
been  'most  ten  feet  high,  not  counting  his  turban. 
And  his  eyes  flashed  like— like  fireworks." 

"  Did  he  come  out  of  a  column  of  smoke  or  with 
a  clap  like  thunder?"  asked  Jack. 

"  There  was  some  smoke,"  said  Heywood ;  "  I 
won't  be  certain  about  the  thunder." 

"  Was  he  jolly  to  you  ? "  inquired  the  English 
boy. 

"  I  made  him  know  his  place  pretty  soon,  I  tell 
you,"  the  American  answered.  "  He  salaamed 
three  times,  bowing  down  until  his  head  touched 
the  ground,  and  then  he  said,  '  I  am  thy  slave  and 
the  slave  of  those  who  have  the  ring.  Command 


248  THREE   WISHES. 

and  I  obey  ! '  I  was  so  surprised  that  I  rubbed  the 
ring  off  my  finger,  and  it  fell  on  the  grass  and  rolled 
away,  and  I  haven't  been  able  to  find  it.  We  must 
look  in  the  morning." 

"  H'm  !  "  said  Jack  doubtfully.  "  Why  don't  you 
make  the  Djinn  find  it  ?  " 

"How  can  I?"  Heywood  answered.  "I  can't 
call  him  without  the  ring;  and  even  if  I  should  meet 
him,  I'd  never  dare  tell  him  I'd  lost  the  ring,  be 
cause  then  I  shouldn't  have  any  power  over  him." 

"  Have  you  got  any  power  over  him  now  ?  "  asked 
Jack. 

"  Not  over  him  exactly.  You  see,  it  was  like 
this:  I  didn't  want  to  be  hurried,  so  my  first  com 
mand  was  that  he  should  grant  me  my  next  three 
wishes.  And  I  arranged  so  you  could  have  one  of 
them." 

"  Not  really  ?  "  cried  Jack.  "  Thanks,  awfully, 
Brevoort!  You're  a  trump  !  " 

"  We  won't  hurry  over  this,"  said  Heywood,  who 
perhaps  had  some  reluctance  to  face  the  spook 
again  just  yet.  "  I  believe  in  treating  your  slaves 
like  human  beings.  I'll  match  you  who  has  the 
first  wish." 

"All  right,"  returned  Jack,  to  whom  the  Ameri 
can  boy  had  explained  the  mysteries  of  "  matching." 


THREE   WISHES.  249 

Each  lad  reached  across  the  bed  to  his  pockets  and 
secured  a  coin,  which  he  tossed  in  the  air  and  cov 
ered  with  his  left  hand  as  it  fell  on  his  right  palm. 

"  I'll  match  you,"  said  Heywood. 

"All  right,"  answered  Jack,  looking  at  his  coin. 
"  Mine's  a  head." 

"And  mine's  a  tail,"  Heywood  returned;  "the 
first  wish  is  yours." 

"  I  say,  Brevoort,  do  you  really  believe  in  this 
Djinn  ?  "  asked  Jack  doubtfully. 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  cried  Heywood  indignantly. 
"  Didn't  I  see  him,  and  didn't  he  give  me  three 
wishes,  and  haven't  I  let  you  have  the  first  one  ?  " 

"Do  you  think  I'll  get  it?"  was  the  English 
boy's  next  doubtful  question. 

"Just  you  wait  till  to-morrow  and  see  if  you  don't 
get  it;  and  if  you  don't  it'll  be  your  own  fault  for 
not  wishing  hard  enough.'' 

"  All  right,"  said  Jack  again,  with  a  little  more 
confidence,  kindled  from  his  friend's.  "  Fll  wish 
hard  enough  if  wishing  will  do  it." 

"What  are  you  going  to  wish  for?"  asked  Hey 
wood. 

"  I'll  stick  to  what  I  said  first — I'll  wish  for  a  tri 
cycle  like  young  Gower's.  I  never  saw  one  I  liked 
better." 


250  THREE   WISHES. 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  shouldn't  go  higher  than  a 
tricycle,"  said  Heywood  doubtfully.  "  Those  'Ara 
bian  Nights '  fellows  chose  more  expensive  things 
than  that.  But  come  to  think  of  it,  we'd  better  be 
gin  gradually,  perhaps.  When  we  find  the  ring  we 
can  spread  ourselves.  Now  you  must  wish  hard- 
real  hard." 

"  I'll  wish  hard  enough,  never  fear,"  the  English 
lad  replied. 

There  was  silence  for  a  minute  or  two.  It  was 
far  later  than  either  of  the  boys  was  wont  to  sit  up, 
and  they  were  both  of  them  getting  sleepy  despite 
their  unusual  experiences. 

"  Are  you  wishing  ? "  was  Heywood's  yawning 
inquiry. 

"Yes,"  Jack  answered  drowsily. 

"  Hard  ?  "  queried  the  American. 

"  Hard  as  I  can,"  replied  the  English  lad. 

In  a  few  seconds  more  they  were  both  fast  asleep. 


THREE   WISHES.  251 


II. 

THE  slumber  of  school-boys  is  always  heavy  and 
hearty,  and  never  more  so  than  in  vacation,  when 
there  are- no  sudden  bells  to  arouse  them.  So  it 
was  that  both  Jack  Ainsley  and  Heywood  Brevoort 
overslept  themselves  on  the  morning  after  the  for 
mer  had  been  to  the  Cowers'  party  and  the  latter 
had  rubbed  his  Indian  ring.  When  they  were 
awakened,  it  was  Heywood  who  managed  to  dress 
first.  He  descended  from  the  dormitory  as  speedily 
as  he  could.  After  a  good  night's  sleep,  he  did  not 
know  what  to  think  of  his  adventure  of  the  preced 
ing  evening.  In  the  chill  morning  he  felt  doubts 
which  he  would  have  denied  the  night  before  while 
talking  to  Ainsley.  Whom  had  he  seen  ?  And 
what  was  it  that  this  strange  messenger  had  really 
said  to  him  ?  These  were  questions  to  which  he 
could  return  no  satisfactory  answer.  If  the  wish 
had  been  fulfilled  in  any  way,  Heywood's  confidence 
would  have  been  amply  restored ;  and  when  first  he 
waked  he  had  cast  a  doubtful  glance  about  the 
dormitory,  half  hoping  that  he  might  see  the  tricy 
cle  by  the  side  of  his  friend's  bed. 


252  THREE    ll'ISIIES. 

A»<  he  drew  near  to  the  housekeeper's  room,  where 
he  and  Jack  took  their  meals  in  lonely  state  during 
the  holidays,  the  parlor-maid  met  him  and  said : 
"  Isn't  Master  Ainsley  down  yet  ?  There's  some 
thing  come  for  him." 

"  Where  ?  What  is  it  ?  "  cried  the  American  boy, 
with  a  sudden  revulsion  of  hope. 

"  It's  in  the  hall  by  the  door,"  she  answered ;  "  it's 
a  wheel  thing." 

"  Jack,  come  and  see  ! "  he  cried,  as  he  caught 
sight  of  his  friend  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs.  "  There's 
something  for  you  !  " 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  shouted  Jack,  springing  along  after 
him. 

As  they  came  to  the  end  of  the  hall,  there  stood 
a  brand-new  tricycle. 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  ?  "  cried  Heywood.  "  Now 
what  do  you  say  ?  Look  at  your  name  on  the  label. 
Do  you  think  I'm  selling  you  now?" 

"  I  never  did  think  that  exactly,"  Ainsley  an 
swered;  "  only — it  all  seems  so  queer,  don't  it  ?  To 
have  my  wish  granted  so  soon  ! " 

Then  examining  the  tricycle  more  particularly, 
he  added:  "I  say,  this  isn't  just  like  Gower's,  you 
know  ! " 

"  Isn't  it?"  asked  the  American,  a  little  annoyed 


THREE   WISHES.  253 

at  this  caviling.  "  That's  your  own  fault,  then. 
You  should  have  wished  harder  and  plainer.  How's 
a  Djinn  to  know  one  tricycle  from  another?  Some 
Djinns  would  have  brought  a  perambulator." 

The  parlor-maid  came  down  the  hall  to  tell  them 
that  breakfast  was  ready. 

"  I  say,  Mary,"  cried  Jack,  still  doubting,  despite 
the  tangible  evidence  before  him,  "  where  did  this 
tricycle  come  from  ?" 

"  It  was  brought  here  this  morning  by  a  black 
man,"  was  the  answer. 

Jack  and  Heywood  looked  at  each  other,  and 
whatever  of  suspicion  they  may  have  retained  now 
faded  away. 

"  Was  he  a  very  tall  man,  Mary?  "  asked  Heywood. 

"  Uncommon  tall,  and  very  dark,"  she  replied. 

"And  did  he  wear  a  turban?"  the  American 
inquired  again. 

"  Yes,"  she  returned  ;  "  but  your  break/ast  will  be 
cold  if  you  don't  come  now." 

As  she  left  them,  Heywood  looked  across  to 
Ainsley  with  a  smile  of  triumph.  "  That's  him  !  " 
he  said. 

After  breakfast  the  two  boys  sought  diligently 
for  the  Indian  ring.     Heywood  was  not  able  to  iden 
tify   with   certainty   the   exact   spot   where  he  had 


254  THREE   WISHES. 

stood  when  the  black  man  appeared  before  him; 
and  this  was  perhaps  the  reason  why  their  search 
was  unavailing,  ft  seemed  to  them  that  they  had 
examined  every  inch  of  the  strip  of  garden ;  but 
they  failed  to  discover  the  missing  ring. 

They  spent  nearly  an  hour  in  the  search,  the 
tricycle  standing  the  while  by  the  steps. 

"  I  say,  Brevoort,"  said  Ainsley  at  last,  straight 
ening  up  with  an  effort,  "  let's  give  up  the  ring  for 
this  morning;  we  can  look  again  to-morrow.  It 
must  be  somewhere,  you  know,  and  we  are  bound 
to  find  it." 

"  I  don't  see  where  the  pesky  thing  can  have  got 
to  !"  Heywood  remarked,  in  disgust. 

"  My  back  is  nearly  broke  stooping  over,  and  I'm 
going  to  rest  it  by  a  turn  on  the  tricycle.  Come 
along." 

They  took  the  machine  out  into  the  road,  and 
Ainsley  mounted  and  started  it  gently.  A  hundred 
yards  from  the  gate  the  road  dropped  away  abruptly, 
and  there  was  a  sharp  descent.  At  the  top  of  this 
the  English  boy  drew  up. 

"  We'd  better  not  try  the  hill,  I  think,"  he  said, 
"  until  we  can  work  this  thing.  You  ride  ft  back." 

Heywood  took  Jack's  place,  and  rode  the  tricycle 
up  to  the  gate  and  beyond,  his  friend  following  on 


TffRKR    HASHES.  255 

foot.  When  they  were  abreast  of  the  house,  the 
parlor-maid  came  out  and  called  the  English  boy. 

"  Master  Ainsley,  there's  a  gentleman  to  see 
you." 

"  It's  Colonel  Kavanagh,  I'm  sure,"  cried  Jack. 
"I  say,  Brovoort,  come  right  up  to  the  house;  I 
want  to  show  him  my  tricycle  ! " 

On  the  steps  of  the  school  stood  a  handsome, 
soldierly  man,  with  a  pleasant  smile  and  laughing 
eyes. 

"And  this  is  Jack  Ainsley?"  he  said,  as  the  boy 
came  up.  "  I  should  have  known  you  anywhere  — 
you  favor  your  mother.  I  am  Colonel  Kavanagh, 
and  I'm  an  old  friend  of  your  mother's.  I  saw  her 
in  India  not  two  months  ago,  and  I  promised  her 
to  give  her  boy  a  look-up." 

"  I  had  a  letter  from  the  mater  last  week,"  Jack 
replied,  "  and  she  told  me  you  were  coming  down 
to  see  me." 

"  She's  well,  I  trust?  "  Colonel  Kavanagh  inquired. 

"  The  mater?  Oh,  she's  well,"  the  boy  answered, 
with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  movements  of  Heywood 
Brevoort,  who  was  manoeuvring  the  tricycle.  The 
officer  followed  the  direction  of  the  boy's  glance. 

"  I  see  you've  got  your  tricycle,"  he  said. 

"  I  got  it  only  this  morning,"  Jack  replied.    Then, 


256  THREE   WISHES. 

lowering  his  voice,  he  pursued :  "  Do  you  believe  in 
magic  ?" 

"  In  what  ?  "  queried  the  colonel, with  a  faint  smile. 

"  In  magic  ? — in  Djinns,  like  in  the  '  Arabian 
Nights,'  you  know?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  the  colonel  answered ;  "  I  never 
met  a  Djinn  ;  have  you  ?  " 

"  I  haven't,  but  Brevoort  has." 

"  Oh,"  said  Colonel  Kavanagh  gravely.  "  Bre 
voort  has  seen  a  Djinn  ?  And  who  is  Brevoort  ?  " 

"  That's  Brevoort  there,  on  the  tricycle.  He's  an 
American  boy,  and  he  has  an  Indian  ring;  at  least 
he  had,  but  he's  lost  it ;  and  he  rubbed  it  and  the 
slave  of  the  ring  appeared  and  said  he  could  have 
three  wishes,  and  we  tossed  who  should  have  the 
first,  and  I  won,  and  I  wished  for  a  tricycle,  and 
this  morning  here  it  was." 

"  So  that's  the  way  you  got  it,  is  it  ? "  asked 
Colonel  Kavanagh.  "  It  must  be  very  convenient  to 
be  able  to  get  things  by  wishing  for  them.  And 
Brevoort  really  saw  a  Djinn,  eh  ?  I'd  like  to  hear 
all  about  it." 

"I'll  call  him  over — he  won't  mind,"  said  Jack. 
"  Here,  Brevoort,  I  say  !  " 

Thr  American  boy  dismounted  from  the  machine 
and  came  towards  them. 


THREE   WISHES.  257 

"This  is  my  friend  Brevoort,  Colonel  Kavanagh," 
said  Jack,  by  way  of  introduction. 

"  Glad  to  see  you,  sir,"  said  Heywood,  holding 
out  his  hand.  "  My  father  was  a  colonel  in  the  war. 
He  was  wounded  at  Seven  Pines." 

"  Ainsley  tells  me  that  you  have  seen  a  Djinn," 
the  colonel  began,  frankly.  "  I'm  interested  in 
Djinns,  and  I'd  like  to  hear  all  about  it." 

Heywood  blushed  suddenly,  and  his  cheeks  tin 
gled  while  he  was  telling  his  tale. 

"  I  don't  know  much  about  Djinns  except  what 
I've  read;  and  I've  only  seen  one,  and  him  only 
once,  so  far,  and  it  was  getting  dark,  too." 

"  I've  never  seen  even  one,"  said  Colonel  Kav- 
anagh.  "  Where  did  you  meet  him  ?  " 

"  Out  there  in.  the  bit  of  garden  by  the  play 
ground.  You  see,  I've  got  an  Indian  ring  made  of 
porcupine  quills,  and  I'd  tried  rubbing  all  sorts  of 
rings  to  call  up  a  Djinn,  and  they  never  came,  and 
Jack  here  said  why  didn't  I  try  this  Indian  ring, 
and  so  I  did,  last  evening,  out  there,  and  I  rubbed, 
and  rubbed,  and  suddenly  a  great  tall  black  man 
rose  up  before  me  and  bowed  — 

"  Ah,"  remarked  the  colonel,  with  interest,  "  I 
see — it  was  there  that  you  met  the  Djinn.  And 
what  time  was  this  ?  " 


258  THREE   WISHES. 

"  About  five  o'clock  last  evening." 

"  And  he  was  a  tall,  black  man,  with  dark  clothes 
and  a  high  turban — 

"  Have  you  seen  him  too  ? "  interrupted  Bre- 
voort. 

*  I  regret  to  say  that  I  have  not  yet  met  a  Djinn 
face  to  face,"  replied  the  colonel,  smiling. 

"  Then  how  did  you  know  how  he  looked  ? " 
asked  the  American  boy. 

"  How  did  I  know  ?  "  repeated  Colonel  Kavanagh  ; 
"  why,  I  know  how  a  respectable  Djinn  ought  to  be 
clothed.  Did  I  describe  the  dress  of  the  one  you 
saw  ?  " 

"  Exactly,"  Heywood  answered. 

"  That  is  a  little  curious,  isn't  it  ? "  said  the 
colonel.  "  And  he  gave  you  three  wishes  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  asked  him  if  I  could  have  three  wishes, 
and  he  said  I  could,  in  the  morning.  So  Jack  and 
I  matched  to  see  who  should  have  the  first  wish, 
and  he  won,  and  he  wished  for  a  tricycle.  I  don't 
think  he  quite  believed  in  my  Djinn,  but  when  he 
came  down-stairs  this  morning  and  found  that  tri 
cycle,  and  heard  Mary  say  it  had  been  brought  by 
a  big  black  man,  why,  naturally,  that  just  staggered 
him." 

"Yes,"  said  Colonel   Kavanagh,  "  I  can  see  that 


THREE   WISHES.  259 

it  would  stagger  him.  I  confess  that  it  staggers 
me.  I  can  hardly  help  believing  that  your  Djinn 
had  something  to  do  with  it." 

"  I  believe  it  now,  of  course.  I  didn't  at  first," 
said  Jack.  "  Still  it  is  rather  extraordinary,  isn't 
it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Colonel  Kavanagh  again.  "  It  is  ex 
traordinary.  In  fact,  I  don't  mind  telling  you  that 
it  is  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  things  I  ever 
heard  of."  He  paused  and  then  looked  at  Hey- 
wood.  "  It's  a  pity  you  lost  that  ring.  If  you  had 
it  I  should  ask  you  to  call  up  that  Djinn  again. 
I'm  very  anxious  to  get  a  good  look  at  him." 

"  I  don't  think  he'd  like  to  be  called  just  to  be 
made  a  show  of,"  said  Heywood,  not  quite  ingenu 
ously.  "  But  I'll  see  how  he  feels  about  it  when  we 
find  the  ring.  We're  going  to  look  for  it  again  and 
again  till  we  do." 

"  They  tell  me  that  the  doctor  has  gone  up  to 
London  and  will  not  return  until  to-morrow  after 
noon,  so  I  shall  come  back  then  to  see  him,"  the 
colonel  remarked.  "  If  you  have  found  the  ring 
by  that  time  I  wish  you  would  kindly  let  me  know. 
In  the  mean  while  I  suppose  you  will  be  riding 
about  on  the  tricycle.  Are  you  not  afraid  to  trust 
yourself  on  so  ghostly  a  gift  ?  " 


260  THREE   WISHES. 

"  The  tricycle  is  all  right,"  Jack  spoke  up 
promptly.  "I've  looked  to  that.  It's  come  from  a 
first  rate  maker.  It's  one  of  the  best  I  ever  saw.'.' 

"Ah, "said  the  colonel  meditatively;  "and  how 
do  you  suppose  the  Djinn  got  it  ?  " 

"  Bought  and  paid  for  it,  I  should  say,"  was  Jack's 
answer. 

"  You  don't  think  the  Djinn  stole  it,  sir,  do  you  ?  " 
asked  Hey  wood. 

"  No,"  said  Colonel  Kavanagh,  as  he  began  to 
walk  to  the  gate— "no,  I  shouldn't  like  to  believe 
that  the  Djinn  was  dishonest,  but  I  confess  I'd  like 
to  know  just  how  he  came  to  pick  out  that  partic 
ular  tricycle." 

"  He  knew  a  good  one,  I'm  sure,"  cried  Jack. 

"  It  seems  to  have  been  selected  with  care,"  the 
colonel  remarked.  "  But  if  I  were  you,  I  don't 
think  I'd  risk  running  down  this  hill  with  it  you 
might  lose  control.  I'll  see  you  to-morrow."  And 
with  this  he  nodded  to  them  and  passed  through 
the  gate. 

"  Jolly  sort  of  chap,  the  colonel,"  commented 
Jack. 

"  I  wish  he  wouldn't  look  as  though  he  wanted  to 
laugh  all  the  time,"  was  Master  Brevoort's  criticism. 


THREE   WISHES.  261 


III. 

AFTER  this  interview  the  boys  went  out  again 
with  the  tricycle,  which  afforded  many  joys  not  to 
be  exhausted  speedily.  They  rode  it  in  turn  at 
first  and  finally  together,  one  working  the  wheels 
and  the  other  standing  up  behind  on  the  rear  axle. 

For  awhile  they  were  content  to  go  to  and  fro 
on  the  more  or  less  level  road  before  the  gates  of 
the  school,  avoiding  the  declivity  against  which 
Colonel  Kavanagh  had  warned  them. 

But  at  last,  as  the  muscles  of  their  legs  began  to 
tire  a  little  with  the  unwonted  exercise,  it  struck 
them  that  they  could  ride  down  the  hill  without 
any  exertion,  and  that  they  could  come  up  again  on 
foot,  which  would  fatigue  them  less  than  did  the 
tricycle. 

So  Jack  carefully  steered  the  tricycle  into  the 
middle  of  the  road,  Brevoort  supporting  himself  on 
the  rear  axle  as  best  he  could.  When  they  came 
to  the  brow  of  the  hill  and  began  to  descend 
towards  the  town,  Ainsley  tightened  his  grip  on  the 
brake. 


262  THREE    WISHES. 

"  This  is  fun!  "  cried  Heywood.  "  It's  almost  as 
good  as  coasting!  " 

"  If  your  coasting  is  any  better  fun  than  this,  I'd 
like  to  have  a  go  at  it,"  Ainsley  returned. 

The  brow  of  the  hill  sloped  away  gently,  but  the 
road  soon  dropped  sharply.  When  the  two  boys 
reached  this  point,  the  tricycle  was  going  very 
swiftly. 

"  I  say,"  cried  Jack,  "  we're  going  too  fast,  aren't 
we  ?  " 

"  I've  coasted  down  a  bigger  hill  than  this  lots 
faster  than  we  are  going  now,"  answered  the 
American. 

Just  here  the  road  dropped  away  again,  and  there 
was  again  an  increase  of  speed. 

"  But  you  can  pull  up  if  you  like,"  Heywood 
added  hastily,  conscious  that  their  speed  was  in  ex 
cess  of  safety. 

"  That's  all  very  well,"  the  English  boy  responded  ; 
"but  I  can't  stop  now.  I've  got  the  brake  on,  but 
it  won't  stop !  " 

"  Look  out  for  the  old  boy  in  front  there ! " 
shouted  Brevoort  suddenly. 

Ainsley  had  been  giving  his  attention  to  the 
brake,  but  now  he  looked  up.  Right  in  front  of 
them  was  an  elderly  man,  rather  portly  in  person. 


THREE    WISHES.  263 

"Hi,  there!"  yelled  Jack. 

"  Clear  the  track!  "   Heywood  cried. 

But  it  was  too  late.  The  old  gentleman  was 
startled  as  he  heard  the  cry.  Turning,  he  saw  two 
boys  on  a  tricycle  madly  descending  on  him.  He 
lost  his  head  for  a  moment  and  hesitated.  First 
he  went  to  the  right,  and  then  he  went  to  the  left ; 
and  then  he  stepped  back  and  said,  "  Take  care, 
take  care;  you'll  run  over  me!'' 

"  Steer  to  the  right!  "  screamed  Brevoort. 

The  old  gentleman's  hesitancy  had  confused 
Ainsley,  who  steered  to  the  left  and  then  to  the 
right.  Fortunately  his  steady  pressure  on  the 
brake  had  begun  to  affect  their  speed,  and  when  at 
last  they  came  into  collision  with  the  old  gentleman, 
the  shock  was  not  as  violent  as  it  might  have  been. 
But  it  sufficed  to  upset  the  tricycle,  to  spill  off 
Ainsley  and  Brevoort,  and  to  throw  their  victim  off 
his  feet. 

"You  are  not  hurt,  are  you?"  asked  Heywood, 
who  was  the  first  to  get  on  his  feet;  and  who  went 
at  once  to  the  assistance  of  the  stranger. 

"  If  I've  no  bones  broken,  it's  no  thanks  to  you," 
responded  the  old  gentleman  angrily. 

"  We  are  very  sorry,"  began  Ainsley. 

"  We   didn't    mean    to,"   were     Heywood's    first 


264  THREE   WISHES. 

words,  when  the  old  gentleman  interrupted  them 
both. 

"Of  course  you  didn't  mean  to,"  he  cried.  "  If 
you  had  meant  it,  I'd  have  you  lacked  up  in  jail ! 
Of  course  you  are  sorry;  but  that  wouldn't  mend 
my  bones  if  I'd  broken  'em  !  " 

"  But  you  haven't  broken  any,  have  you  ?"  Ains- 
ley  asked,  as  he  picked  up  the  tricycle. 

"  What's  that  to  you  ?  "  shouted  the  elderly  and 
irascible  person. 

"That's  so,"  replied  Heywood  "You  are  all 
right  there.  We  don't  care  whether  you  break  in 
two ! " 

"  No  impudence,  you  young  monkey!"  said  the 
old  gentleman,  with  increasing  wrath. 

"Gorilla  yourself!"  was  Heywood's  retort. 

"  What  ?  "  shouted  the  stranger.  "  Do  you  mean 
to  bandy  words  with  me  ?  "  And  here  he  flourished 
menacingly  his  heavy  cane  with  a  shining  silver 
knob  at  the  top. 

"Oh,  come,  off!"  answered  the  American  boy; 
"you  began  it — you  called  us  monkeys!" 

"  Things  have  come  to  a  pretty  pass  in  this  coun 
try,  if  a  man  cannot  go  out  of  town  for  a  day  on 
business  without  being  exposed  to  assault  and  insult 
from  a  band  of  young  ruffians." 


THREE   WISHES.  265 

"  Oh,  I  say  now,"  interrupted  Ainsley ;  "  we  are 
not  young  ruffians." 

"  I  suppose  you  two  young  rascals  belong  to  that 
school  on  the  hill  there  ?  "  inquired  the  old  gentle 
man. 

"  Yes,  we  do,"  answered  Ainsley. 

"  And  what  of  it  ?  "  was  Brevoort's  question. 

"  I'll  make  it  my  business  to  call  on  the  master 
and  ask  him  why  he  doesn't  teach  you  young  cubs 
better  manners." 

"  I'd  sooner  be  a  young  cub  than  an  old  bear, 
any  day!"  responded  Brevoort  promptly. 

"  Now  mark  my  words,"  said  the  old  gentleman, 
mastering  his  anger,  and  speaking  with  much  force ; 
"mark  my  words!  I  believe  that  you  two  boys 
took  a  wanton  pleasure  in  running  into  me.  I  be 
lieve  that  you  did  this  on  purpose.  As  you  have 
seen  fit  to  add  insult  to  injury,  I  shall  state  my  be 
lief  to  your  master.  I  had  intended  to  return  to 
town  by  the  five-o'clock  train,  and  I  may  be  forced 
to  do  so;  but  if  it  is  possible,  I  shall  present  myself 
at  the  school  this  afternoon,  on  my  way  back  to 
the  station.  Then  we  shall  see  what  your  master 
has  to  say  to  your  impudence  and  your  brutality. 
Now,  no  more  words.  You  may  save  your  breath 
to  defend  yourself  to  the  master." 


266  THREE   WISHES. 

And  so  saying,  the  old  gentleman  turned  away 
from  them  and  resumed  his  descent  of  the  hill. 

Heywood  was  about  to  throw  a  few  words  of  de 
fiance  after  the  departing  enemy,  when  Jack  checked 
him. 

"Let  him  go,"  he  said;  "we  needn't  make  things 
any  worse  than  they  are." 

And  vyith  that  he  began  to  push  the  tricycle 
slowly  up  the  hill. 

Warmed  with  the  combat,  Heywood  was  full  of 
fight,  and  it  was  a  few  minutes  before  he  saw  the 
gravity  of  their  situation. 

They  returned  in  silence,  crest-fallen  and  con 
scious  of  their  wrong-doing.  Perhaps  it  was  this 
which  made  them  not  a  little  irritable  with  them 
selves  and  with  each  other. 

When  they  came  to  the  brow  of  the  hill  and  the 
more  level  road  lay  before  them,  Heywood  mounted 
the  tricycle  and  Jack  walked  by  his  side,  still  deep 
in  thought. 

"  I  knew  something  would  come  of  getting  a  ma 
chine  through  a  Djinn !  "  said  Jack,  at  last,  lugubri 
ously. 

"  The  machine's  well  enough  !  "  retorted  Brevoort, 
promptly  defending  his  Djinn.  "Don't  blame  the 
Djinn  because  you  can't  steer.  If  you  had  turned 


THREE   WISHES.  267 

the  handles  the  way  I  told  you,  we  shouldn't  have 
run  over  him  !  " 

"Well,  it's  no  good  talking  about  that  now — it's 
done,  and  there's  an  end  of  it !  " 

"  Do  you  think  he.  meant  what  he  said  about 
coming  up  to  the  school  this  evening  and  com 
plaining  ?  " 

"  I  dare  say.  He'd  have  been  all  right  if  you 
hadn't  cheeked  him  like  that." 

"  Make  out  it's  my  fault !  I  wasn't  going  to  stand 
there  as  calm  as  a  clam  while  he  was  calling  names. 
I  guess  he  knew  my  opinion  of  him  by  the  time  I 
was  through." 

"You  made  it  ten  times  worse  by  going  and 
slanging  him  like  that." 

"I  didn't,  so  now!" 

"You  did,  so  there!  You  think  yourself  so  jolly 
sharp." 

"  Well,  I'd  be  sorry  if  I  wasn't  sharper  than  some 
folks,"  said  the  American  sulkily. 

"All  right,"  retorted  Jack;  "if  that's  the  way 
you're  going  to  talk,  I'll  trouble  you  to  get  off  that 
tricycle — it's  mine !  " 

"  That's  pretty  mean — considering.  If  it  wasn't 
for  me  you  wouldn't  have  had  a  tricycle  to  order 
me  off.  Here,  take  your  old  tricycle.  I'm  sorry  I 


268  THREE   WISHES. 

gave  you  one  of  my  wishes  now,  if  this  is  all  the 
gratitude  I  get! " 

Jack  was  ashamed  and  penitent  in  a  moment. 

"  No,  I  say,  Brevoort;  I  wasn't  in  earnest  then," 
he  said;  "  don't  get  off.  It's  all  rot  our  quarrelling 
like  this.  We're  both  in  the  same  mess.  Do  you 
think  he  was  only  pretending  to  be  in  a  bait  ?  " 

"  We  ran  over  his  toes  and  took  him  full  in  the 
waistcoat — he  looked  as  though  he  was  pretty  mad," 
said  Heywood  pensively.  "  And  he  knows  we  be 
long  to  the  school  here.  He'll  come — if  he  has  to 
drop  everything  to  do  it.  There's  only  one  chance 
for  us." 

"What's  that?" 

"  Why,  you  heard  him  say  he  had  come  down 
here  for  the  day,  and  he  thought  it  hard  he  couldn't 
be  safe  in  a  place  like  this  ?  " 

"  But  he  said  he'd  come  as  soon  as  he  had  fin 
ished  his  business  here — on  his  way  back  to  the 
station.  He's  got  lots  of  time  between  this  and 
evening." 

"  Let  him  come  !  "  said  Brevoort ;  "  he'll  only  find 
the  housekeeper — the  doctor  doesn't  come  back  till 
to-morrow." 

"  No  more  he  does— hooray !  "  cried  Jack ;  "  then 
we're  all  right.  Mrs.  Cossett  won't  speak,  I  know." 


THREE   WISHES.  269 

So  they  reached  the  school  in  an  easier  state  of 
mind. 

However,  after  the  mid-day  dinner,  Jack,  who  had 
been  prowling  about  alone,  came  with  a  long  face 
into  the  school-room,  where  Brevoort  was  sitting. 

"  I  say,"  he  began,  "  I  just  found  Mary  lighting 
the  doctor's  fire,  and  I  got  out  of  her  that  he's 
sent  a  telegram  to  say  he'll  be  here  by  the  three- 
o'clock  train  this  afternoon." 

"Then  we're  treed !"  was  Heywood's  comment; 
"  for  that  old  chap  will  turn  up  sure  as  fate,  and 
now,  if  he  does  come,  the  doctor  will  be  in.  Is  he 
strict  ?  " 

"  Rather,  in  some  things." 

"  But,  after  all,  it  was  an  accident!" 

"  That  old  buffer  will  swear  we  did  it  on  purpose ; 
and  then,"  said  Jack,  "you — we  did  rather  rag  him. 
Yes,  the  doctor's  sure  to  be  awfully  shirty.  He'll 
keep  us  in  the  play-ground  till  the  fellows  come 
back,  and  stop  tricycling — if  he  doesn't  take  it  away 
altogether." 

"  Then  there's  an  end  to  our  fun !  "  said  Hey- 
wood  disconsolately.  "  Perhaps  the  doctor  won't 
come  after  all,  something  may  happen  to  stop  him. 

"  I  wish  it  would  !  " 

"  I  say,  Brevoort !  "  exclaimed  Jack. 


270  THREE   WISHES. 

11  Where's  the  harm  in  that  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  only  he  won't  come  now — that's  all." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  remember  the  Djinn  ?  You  said  you 
wished" 

"  Oh,  but  that  don't  count.  I  wasn't  really  wish 
ing,  and  the  Djinn  didn't  mean  that  sort  of  wish," 
remarked  the  American  boy. 

"  I  don't  think  that  matters.  It  was  a  wish,  and 
he's  bound  to  grant  it.  You've  used  up  your  second 
wish." 

"That's  so,"  said  Heywood  thoughtfully.  "I 
.don't  know,  come  to  think  of  it,  that  the  case  was 
bad  enough  to  fool  away  another  wish  on ;  but  I've 
done  it.  The  doctor  won't  come  now.  That's 
something,  and  we  can  make  it  up  when  we  find 
that  ring." 

"  Let's  have  another  hunt  for  it  before  it  gets  too 
dark,"  suggested  Jack.  "  If  we  can  get  it  before 
the  old  gentleman  comes,  you  might  set  your  Djinn 
at  him." 

"  That  would  be  splendid,"  agreed  Heywood ; 
"  he'd  make  the  old  boy  sit  up,  wouldn't  he  ?  " 

"You'd  have  to  tell  him  he  mustn't  hurt  him 
really,  you  know,"  said  Jack,  "  or  we  should  only 
get  into  a  worse  row." 


THREE  WISHES.  271 

"  I'll  drop  him  a  hint  about  that,"  said  the  Ameri 
can  easily.  He  was  by  this  time  hunting  about  on 
the  gravel.  "  But  I'm  beginning  to  think  we  never 
shall  get  that  ring  now." 

"  Look  here,  Brevoort,  you — you  haven't  been 
selling  me  all  this  time  ?  It's  all  right  about  this 
Djinn  ?  " 

"  If  it  wasn't,  how  do  you  account  for  that  tricy 
cle  ?"  demanded  Heywood  triumphantly. 

"I  forgot  that;  but  I  wish  you  hadn't  lost  that 
ring.  Or  do  you  think  the  Djinn  bagged  it  when 
you  let  it  drop  ?  " 

"  If  he  has,  he'll  stick  to  it,"  said  Heywood 
gloomily;  "he's  cute  enough  for  that.  Then  I've 
lost  my  Djinn.  It's  rough  having  him  and  losing 
him  like  that,  all  at  once." 

"  You've  got  one  more  wish — that's  always  some 
thing,"  suggested  Jack. 

"  So  I  have.  I'll  be  real  careful  about  this  one. 
I  might  wish  to  have  the  Djinn  back  again." 

"That  wouldn't  do,"  interposed  Jack  quickly; 
"  because,  you  see,  when  he  came  you  wouldn't 
have  the  ring  and  he  wouldn't  be  your  slave." 

"  No  more  he  would.  No,  I  won't  risk  that,  but 
I  might  wish  to  find  the  ring." 

"  Not  if  the  Djinn's  got  it.'r 


272  THREE    WISHES. 

"Well,  I'll  study  up  what  to  wish  bimeby.  Now 
we've  got  to  try  if  the  ring  isn't  here  after  all." 

But  they  searched  in  vain  until  the  darkness  be 
gan  to  gather,  and  Mrs.  Cossett  appeared  at  the 
school  steps. 

"  Master  Ainsley,"  she  called,  "  will  you  come 
here  a  minute  ?  " 

Jack  went,  and  after  a  short  colloquy  rejoined 
his  friend. 

"  We've  got  to  go  to  the  station,"  he  announced 
shortly ;  "  the  doctor  hasn't  come,  and  Mother 
Cossett  thinks  the  train" has  been  delayed  somehow; 
she  seems  in  a  funk  about  something  the  milkman 
has  told  her,  and  she  wants  us  to  go  and  find  out 
what's  up." 

"  You  go,"  said  Heywood ;  "  I  feel  like  finding 
that  ring." 

"  No,  come  with  me,  I'd  rather,"  urged  Jack,  who 
did  not  seem  to  care  about  his  own  company  just 
then.  Brevoort  yielded,  seeing  that  it  was  really 
too  dark  to  admit  of  any  prospect  of  finding  the 
ring  till  daylight. 

There  was  a  larger  crowd  than  usual  at  the  sta 
tion  ;  the  men  lounging  about  the  station-yard 
seemed  to  be  discussing  something  with  an  excite 
ment  very  different  from  their  customary  lassitude; 


THREE   WISHES.  273 

on  the  platform,  groups  still  more  excited  were  col 
lected  ;  and  all  officials,  from  the  station-master 
down  to  the  paper-boy,  were  being  eagerly  applied 
to  for  information.  Jack  and  Heywood  stood  en 
deavoring  to  discover  the  reason  of  this  unwonted 
stir;  but  for  a  while,  beyond  the  fact  that  the  Lon 
don  train  was  an  hour  or  two  behind  its  time,  they 
could  learn  nothing.  At  last,  through  a  by-stander, 
they  gathered  that  there  had  been  an  accident  on 
the  line — he  thought  a  collision,  but  was  not  sure, 
as  it  was  next  to  impossible  to  get  any  precise  de 
tails  out  of  the  railway  staff.  The  two  boys  hung 
about,  hearing  ominous  words  now  and  then  in 
disjointed  scraps  of  conversation  which  increased 
their  alarm. 

"I  can't  stay  here,"  said  Jack  at  last;  "  let's  go 
home." 

They  walked  back  in  almost  unbroken  silence, 
for  neither  liked  to  betray  to  the  other  what  was  in 
his  mind. 

"  Why  didn't  we  ask  a  porter  or  somebody  ? " 
queried  Brevoort.  "  We're  not  much  the  wiser  for 
going  now." 

"  They  wouldn't  have  told  us.  They  said  the 
same  thing  to  everybody — that  the  line  was  blocked, 

and  that  was  all  they  knew  themselves,"  answered 
18 


274  THREE   WISHES. 

Jack,  who  had  dreaded  to  ask  lest  he  should  have 
his  fears  confirmed  by  some  terrible  tidings. 

"  Well,  likely  we  shall  find  the  doctor  back  when 
we  get  in,"  said  Heywood.  "  I  only  hope  the  old 
fellow  we  ran  over  won't  turn  up  too,  that's  all ! " 

"Don't!"  said  Jack,  uncomfortably. 

"  Don't  what  ?  " 

"  Talk  as  if  it  was  sure  to  be  all  right."       . 

They  were  at  the  school  gates  by  this  time,  and 
went  round  to  the  back  entrance. 

'•'  Brevoort,"  said  Jack  in  a  shaky  whisper,  "  don't 
you  think  it  would  be  better  to  get  rid  of  that  tri 
cycle  ?" 

"  Not    much !  "  said    Brevoort.     "  Why  on  earth 


"  Because  it  was  given  to  me  by  that  beastly 
Djinn  of  yours;  and — and — I  don't  want  to  have 
anything  more  to  do  with  it,"  answered  Ainsley  as 
he  entered  the  school-room. 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  ?    You  don't  think— 

"Yes,  I  do — and  so  do  you.  Youknoiv  he's  done 
this!" 

"  How  do  you  make  that  out  ? "  asked  the 
American. 

"You  wished  something  would  happen  to  stop 
the  doctor  from  coming  to-night ;  something  has — 


THREE    WISHES.  275 

this  collision — and — T  call  it  beastly  caddish  of  the 
Djinn,"  declared  Jack,  on  the  verge  of  tears. 

Brevoort's  sense  of  importance  was  ministered  to 
by  this  suggestion,  even  though  he  was  horrified,  to 
do  him  justice,  by  the  literal  fidelity  with  which  his 
wish  had  been  granted. 

"I  guess  it  wasn't  the  Djinn's  fault;  he  had  to 
keep  his  promise,  and  he  didn't  see  any  other  way 
just  then.  Mistakes  will  happen  at  first,  and  after 
all  he'd  only  cause  just  enough  collision  to  keep 
the  doctor  from  coming  to-night." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  Suppose  he  never  comes 
at  all — not  alive.  O  Heywood,  it's  awful  !  You 
don't  know  how  jolly  the  poor  doctor  was — you've 
hardly  seen  him.  And  now  perhaps  he's — why 
couldn't  you  look  out  what  you  were  saying  ?  " 

"  I  never  meant  it,"  said  Brevoort  sulkily.  "  I 
wasn't  thinking  of  the  wishes  then.  It's  no  use 
bullyragging  me.  And  after  all  we  don't  know  that 
the  doctor's  hurt  at  all." 

"  We  know  people  do  get  hurt  in  collisions,  and 
there's  been  one.  Brevoort,  don't  look  as  if  you 
didn't  care.  You  would,  if  you  knew  what  the  doc 
tor  was.  He  took  me  to  see  the  pantomime  here 
the  week  before  you  came,  and  he  was  always  try 
ing  to  think  of  things  to  make  the  holidays  less  dull 


276  THREE   WISHES. 

for  us  here — you  know  he  was,  yourself!  What  if 
he  was  strict  now  and  then  ?  I'd  rather  have  a  mas 
ter  like  him  than  an  easy-going  duffer.  And  now 
he's  hurt,  killed  perhaps — and  it's  all  your  fault  and 
.you  stand  there  doing  nothing." 

"  Why,  blame  it  all,  what  am  I  to  do  ?  "  demanded 
the  American. 

"You  can  do  something;  there's  your  othei*  wish, 
use  i!  and  wish  that  the  doctor  isn't  the  least  bit 
hurt;  you  must!  " 

The  two  boys  stood  opposite  each  other  in  the 
firelit  school-room.  Jack  was  desperately  in  ear 
nest  ;  he  was  a  tender-hearted  boy,  and  the  idea  that 
his  head-master  would  never  return  alive  drove  him 
almost  frantic.  Many  an  act  of  consideration  and 
kindness  came  back  to  him  now;  he  reproached 
himself  for  all  the  mutinous  and  ungrateful  expres 
sions  he  had  used.  At  bottom  he  had  always  liked 
the  master;  and  he  had  spoken  against  the  doctor 
only  because  the  other  fellows  did  and  he  didn't 
want  to  be  thought  a  muff.  And  now  he  might 
never  see  the  doctor's  kind  face  again,  might  never 
hear  the  well-known  voice  commending  him  in 
work  or  games,  unless  Brevoort  would  act  at  once. 
And  Brevoort  stood  there  with  exasperating  cool 
ness. 


THREE   WISHES.  ±77 

"  If  you  don't,"  said  Jack,  "  you'll  be  a  murderer, 
and  I'll  tell  everything." 

"Hold  on,"  returned  Brevoort ;  "  let's  work  out 
this  thing  a  bit.  I  want  to  be  dead  sure  of  my 
facts.  I'm  anxious  not  to  give  myself  away,  don't 
you  see  ?  If  the  Djinn's  gone  and  made  such  an 
ass  of  himself,  will  any  wishing  put  it  right  ?  That's 
my  difficulty." 

"  Oh,  don't  argue  and  jaw  about  it !  "  Jack  burst 
out,  impatiently.  "Try  it." 

"  Supposing  there's  been  no  collision,  and  the 
doctor's  as  well  as  anybody  all  this  time,  I  shall 
have  had  my  last  wish  and  nothing  to  show  for  it." 

"  What  does  it  matter,  Brevoort  ?  I'll  never 
speak  to  you  again  if  you  don't  wish." 

"  You  talk  as  if  it  was  so  easy  to  make  your  mind 
up.  Look  what  I  might  do  with  a  wish  like  that ! 
I  could  be  the  brightest,  or  the  richest,  or  the 
strongest  boy  in  the  universe.  I  could  wish  to  fly, 
if  I  chose!  There's  nothing  I  couldn't  do — or  be! 
And  here  you  expect  me  to  give  up  all  that,  and 
wish  a  perfectly  ordinary  wish,  without  ever  know 
ing  how  far  there's  any  occasion  for  it." 

"  There  is  occasion !  What  fun  would  it  be  to  be 
ever  so  rich  or  powerful  and  know  that  you  might 
have  saved  the  doctor  if  you  liked  and  wouldn't  ?  " 


278  THREE   WISHES. 

"  Well,"  said  Heywood  reluctantly,  "  supposing  I 
wish  him  safe  back  in  town  again — how '11  that  do  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Jack.  "  You  wished  for  something 
to  stop  him  from  coming  back;  and  something 
always  will,  unless  you  prevent  it.  I  want  to  be 
sure  it's  all  right.  Wish  him  back  here  safe  and 
sound  at  once,  then  we  shall  know  the  Djinn  hasn't 
muddled  it  this  time." 

"And  supposing  the  doctor  comes  back  now, 
and  then  that  old  chap  calls,  where  shall  we  be 
then  ?  "  inquired  Heywood. 

"  I  don't  care,"  replied  Jack,  "  so  long  as  nothing 
happens  to  the  doctor.  Nothing's  as  bad  as  that! 
Brevoort,  you  feel  that  as  much  as  I  do.  You 
won't  be  such  a  brute  as  not  to  wish  while  there's 
still  time!  You  can't!" 

"There,  then,"  said  Heywood  after  a  struggle; 
"  I  think  it's  all  blamed  foolishness,  but  sooner  than 
hear  you  take  on  like  that,  here  goes.  I  wish  the 
doctor  to  come  back  safe  and  sound  instantly!  " 

Both  boys  waited  a  little  apprehensively,  not  quite 
sure  whether  their  respected  principal  might  not 
come  bouncing  in  through  the  window,  or  down  the 
chimney,  or  through  the  floor,  propelled  by  the  too 
literal  Djinn,  but  nothing  happened  for  two  or  three 
minutes. 


THREE   WISHES.  279 

"  He's  fetching  him,"  said  Heywood,  under  his 
breath. 

"  I  hope  he'll  do  it  gently— without  messing  him 
about!"  exclaimed  Jack. 

There  came  a  ring  at  the  bell,  and  a  well-known 
voice  was  heard  in  the  hall  a  moment  or  two  later. 

"The  doctor!  "  shouted  Jack,  and  broke  down  in 
hysterical  laughter. 

The  doctor's  voice  was  heard  again,  saying: 
"Walk  in  there,  Kavanagh.  I'll  join  you  in  a  min 
ute.  You'll  find  a  fire  there." 

And  in  walked  Colonel  Kavanagh. 

"  Ah,"  said  the  colonel  when  he  saw  the  two 
boys,  "  and  have  you  found  your  ring  yet  ?  " 

"Not  yet,"  answered  Heywood. 

"  Then  I  suppose  you  haven't  seen  your  Djinn 
again  ?  " 

"No,"  cried  Jack,  "and  we  don't  want  to  see 
him!  He's — he's  a  brute!  That's  what  he  is." 

"  What  has  the  Djinn  been  up  to  now  ?  "  inquired 
Colonel  Kavanagh. 

"  You  won't  tell  anybody  if  we  tell  you  ?  "  Hey 
wood  asked. 

"  I  can  keep  a  secret,  I  think,"  answered  the 
colonel.  "You  may  trust  me  with  it." 

"  Well,"  began  Jack,  "  that  Djinn  has  been —      Oh, 


280  THREE   WISHES. 

you    tell    him,    Brevoort!      I    hate   to   talk    about 
it." 

Colonel  Kavanagh  turned  gravely  to  the  Ameri 
can  boy. 

"  Well,"  began  Heywood,  "  we  were  riding  that 
tricycle  down  hill,  and  it  got  a-going  so  that  we 
couldn't  stop  it,  and  we  ran  into  an  old  gentleman 
and  he  didn't  like  it— 

"  I  should  not  have  liked  it  myself,"  commented 
the  colonel  as  the  American  boy  paused  for  breath. 

"  We  told  him  we  were  sorry,  and  he  said  we 
were  young  ruffians;  and  then  I  sassed  him,  and  he 
said  he'd  come  and  tell  the  doctor;  and  we  didn't 
care,  because  we  thought  the  doctor  wouldn't  be 
home  till  to-morrow— 

"  But  what  has  the  Djinn  to  do  with  this  ?  "  asked 
the  colonel. 

"  I'm  coming  to  that,"  replied  Heywood. 

"You'll  see  soon  enough,"  added  Jack. 

"  Go  on,"  said  Colonel  Kavanagh.  "I'm  all  at 
tention." 

"Well,"  began  Heywood  again,  "after  we  got 
back  here  we  heard  that  the  doctor  would  be  home 
this  afternoon,  and  we  \vere  afraid  that  the  old  boy 
would  complain,  because,  you  know,  we  oughtn't  to 
have  run  into  him,  and  I  did  sasshim  considerable." 


THREE   WISHES.  281 

"I  fear  that  your  conduct  has  been  reprehensi 
ble,"  said  the  colonel,  with  a  grave  face,  although 
there  was  a  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

"And  then — then  I  wished  the  doctor  wouldn't 
come  back  this  afternoon.  And  that  was  my  sec 
ond  wish." 

"Oh!"  said  Colonel  Kavanagh.  "And  did  the 
Djinn  grant  it  ?  " 

"  Didn't  he  just !  "  cried  Jack.     "  The  beast !  " 

"  The  doctor  didn't  come  when  he  was  expected," 
Heywood  went  on,  "and  when  we  went  to  the 
station  we  heard  that  there  had  been  an  accident, 
and  we  knew  that  the  Djinn  had  been  up  to  mis 
chief." 

"I  see,"  said  the  colonel;  "you  think  that  the 
Djinn  caused  the  accident  to  carry  out  your  wish 
that  the  doctor  shouldn't  come  home  ?  " 

"  That's  just  what  he  did,"  cried  Jack. 

"  And  what  did  you  do  ? "  asked  Colonel  Kav 
anagh. 

"  First  off,  we  felt  pretty  mean  about  it ;  and  then 
Jack  begged  me  to  use  my  third  wish  and  bring  the 
doctor  back;  and  at  last  I  did,  and  T  hadn't  wished 
it  more'n  three  minutes  before  we  heard  his  voice 
coming  in  the  front  door." 

"  Ah,"  said  the  colonel,  "  I  think  this  is  more  ex- 


282  THREE   WISHES. 

traordinary  than  your  getting  the  tricycle;    don't 
you  ?  " 

But  before  the  boys  could  answer,  the  parlor 
maid  came  in  and  said  that  the  doctor  was  ready  to 
receive  Colonel  Kavanagh  in  his  study. 

"  You  won't  tell  ?  "  cried  Jack,  as  the  colonel  was 
going. 

"  No,"  Colonel  Kavanagh  answered  ;  "  I  will  keep 
my  promise.  Your  secret  is  safe." 

The  colonel's  face  was  grave  enough  while  he  said 
this,  but  as  he  left  the  room  a  smile  spread  over  his 
features.  This  smile  still  lingered  when  he  entered 
the  doctor's  study,  and  the  master  of  the  school 
noticed  it. 

-  "  What  is  the  joke,  Kavanagh  ?  "  he  asked.  "  You 
were  always  fond  of  a  laugh  in  the  old  days  when 
we  were  school-boys  together." 

"  But  when  we  were  school-boys  together  there 
never  was  a  joke  like  this,"  answered  Colonel  Kav 
anagh.  "  And  I  can't  tell  you  what  this  one  is. 
I'm  sworn  to  secrecy.  You  can  tell  me,  something 
though.  How  is  it  that  you  are  here  now,  although 
there  has  been  a  collision  on  the  railway  and  the 
line  is  blocked  ?  " 

"  That's  simple  enough,"  replied  the  doctor.  "  I 
came  down  by  the  other  line,  which  takes  one 


THREE    WISHES.  283 

to  Storchester,  about  ten  miles  from  here  on  the 
coast.  I  had  to  see  a  man  there  on  business.  And 
I  was  walking  over  here  when  you  met  me  and  gave 
•  me  a  lift  in  your  trap.  It  was  rather  cruel  of  me 
to  accept  your  offer,  too,  since  I  took  the  only  seat 
and  forced  your  black  servant  to  get  down  and  walk 
in  my  stead." 

"  He  won't  mind  the  exercise,"  said  the  colonel; 
"  he's  a  Sepoy,  and  he's  used  to  long  walks.  I  sent 
him  here  last  night  to  ask  if  I  might  give  the  Ains- 
ley  boy — you  know,  I've  known  his  mother  a  long 
time— 

"Yes.     I  know,"  assented  the  doctor. 

"  I  sent  to  ask  if  I  might  give  the  boy  a  tricycle. 
I  told  his  mother  I'd  look  him  up,  and  she  let  out 
that  a  tricycle  was  what  he  wanted.  As  you  were 
not  at  home,  I  took  the  liberty  of  sending  the  man 
over  again  this  morning  with  the  tricycle." 

"  I  allow  tricycles,"  said  the  doctor. 

"Then  that's  all  right,"  the  colonel  went  on. 
"  Now,  there's  another  favor  I  want  to  ask  you. 
Don't  tell  the  boy  I  sent  him  the  tricycle." 

"  Doesn't  he  know  ?  "  asked  the  doctor. 

"No." 

"  But  where  does  he  suppose  it  came  from  ?"  in- 


284  THREE    WISHES. 

quired  the  doctor.  "  He  knows  it  doesn't  rain  tri 
cycles." 

"  Perhaps  he  thinks  it  does — sometimes,"  said  the 
colonel.  "  At  all  events,  I  want  you  not  to  inquire 
too  curiously." 

"  As  you  please,"  the  doctor  answered. 

"  Then  that  is  all  settled  satisfactorily,"  said 
Colonel  Kavanagh,  and  he  settled  down  to  a  cosey 
chat  with  his  old  friend  the  doctor. 

Later  in  the  evening,  as  the  colonel  was  going 
away,  he  saw  the  tricycle  in  the  hall,  and  he  said  to 
himself,  "  I  wonder  what  will  happen  when  that 
Yankee  boy  finds  the  ring  ?  " 

But  nothing  ever  happened,  for  the  ring  was 
never  found. 


BY   THE  SAME  AUTHOR. 

Pen  and  Ink. 

Papers  on  subjects  of  more  or  less  importance.  By 
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"  Mr.  Matthews  contrives  to  put  into  his  essays  a  good  deal  of  criticism 
and  information,  and  if  we  do  not  agree  with  him  at  all  points,  it  is  partly 
because  there  are  so  many  that  there  is  room  for  difference  of  opinion  here 
and  there.  His  style  is  always  clear,  and  if  he  is  sometimes  a  little  over- 
ingenious,  as  in  his  '  Philosophy  of  the  Short  Story,'  he  can  plead  in 
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managed. " —  BEACON. 

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stories,  just  as  they  are  in  life."— PUBLIC  OPINION. 


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complete  that  the  reader  must  have  a  long  and  quick  memory  to  discover  what 
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work  has  been  done  so  thoroughly  in  keeping  with  the  true  spirit  of  dictionary 
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of  Fiction  ii  Literate 

AN    ESSAY 

By  DANIEL  GREENLEAK  THOMPSON,  author  of  "A 
System  of  Psychology,"  "The  Problem  of  Evil,"  "The 
Religious  Sentiments  of  the  Human  Mind,"  etc.  I2mo, 
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very  suggestive  and  valuable  way.  He  covers  the  ground  very  fully  in  treating 
the  sources,  methods,  and  ends  of  fiction.  His  work  is  clear,  comprehensive, 
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sound." — THR  DIAL  (Chicago). 

"The  work  done  by  Mr.  Thompson  can  scarcely  be  too  highly  valued.  He 
has  discussed  with  absolute  fairness  and  great  ability  certain  important  ques 
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able." — THE  ACADEMY  (Eng.). 

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